THE IMPROBABLE OPPONENT
by Sadie Sil - English stories
Summary: During a time of peace, some elves of Middle-Earth decide to bring back an exciting experience: a tournament from the old days.
1. THE TOURNAMENT

**THE IMPROBABLE OPPONENT**

_To be a man is to be __responsible__: to be ashamed of miseries you did not cause; to be proud of your comrades' victories; to be aware, when setting one stone, that you are building a world._

**Antoine de Saint-Exupéry**

* * *

**NOTES**

**Title: The Improbable Opponent**

_**Author**__**:**__ Sadie Sil_

**_Beta_**_:_ _Puxinette_

**Genre**_**: **__Angst/Adventure_

_**Rating**__**:**__ T_

_**Time line**__**: **__Around the year 220 of the third Age. _

_**Notes**__**: **__Elves are considered adults when they reach 50 years old. The twins were born in the year 139; I've preferred to view Elladan and Elrohir as elves that have just arrived at the majority age, so they are not considered experienced warriors yet._

_**Disclaimer**__**:**__ I didn't create any of these wonderful characters. I've just borrowed them from the Professor, devoting them all my love. Now I feel they are also a little bit mine, but I am sure the good Professor won't mind sharing them with me._

_My own characters in this story are: Lady Idhrenniel (a female healer from Imladris), Lord Enel Baradobel, Lord Eilafion and Lord Mithrion (two captains and one healer from the Gray Heavens), Lord__Balanidhren (an adviser from Eryn Galen) and__ Beinion, Angahor, Arnamo, Séretur, Cúndur, Earon, Varyar, Laston, Túro e Hérion (warriors from Imladris and friends of the twins)._

_**Summary**__: During a time of peace, some elves of Middle-Earth decide to bring back an exciting experience: a tournament from the old days. _

_**Story Idea:**_ _Some ideas here are associated to my other story called "The Next Warrior's Hand", which has already been translated to English, but I do not think the reader must know the events of that story to understand this one. If you have any questions feel free to ask._

**Vocabulary:**

_**Ion**__ – son_

_**Ionath**__ – children - sons_

_**Ield**__ - daughter_

_**Ada**__ – dad (familiar/informal)_

_**Adar – **__father (formal)_

_**Nana**__ – mom (familiar/informal)_

_**Naneth **__– mother (formal)_

_**Daerada**__ – grandpa (familiar/informal)_

_**Daernana**__ – grandma (familiar/informal)_

_**Daerion **__- grandson_

_**Tithen-pen**__ – little one_

_**Pen**__-__**neth**__ – little one_

_**Astalder**__ – The brave one_

_**-nín**__ – my_

_Obs: The expressions __**El-nín**__ and __**Rohir-nín**__ are nicknames which Celebrian used to call her sons in my stories. – Something like – "my star", and "my warrior"._

* * *

_**CHAPTER ONE – THE TOURNAMENT**_

_When there's no risk in the fight, there is no glory in the triumph_

Pierre Corneille

* * *

Elrohir was too anxious. He was so anxious that practically everyone had given up on appeasing his spirit. The young elf seemed unaware of the utility of chairs and other resting places. He spent his days checking his weapons, training alone or with a partner, and occupying the rest of his time with other activities. He walked aimlessly from the house to the courtyard and to any other place that his legs would take him.

"My Sweet _Elbereth_, I can't understand what is wrong with him!" was Celebrian's comment after seeing her son leaving the library with a huge atlas in his hand. "Can this elfling not even sit down to read?"

Idhrenniel, one of the female healers and Celebrian's friend, also smiled. They were both taking a short walk in the garden.

"We have to remember, my lady," she commented. "It's been a long while since a tournament like this one has been held. The fact that the leaders have decided to organize it in Imladris was a big surprise."

"I don't think it's the excitement of having such a competition in our city that is making Elrohir feel this way," Celebrian observed, following the last steps of her son before he disappeared inside the large house again.

Idhrenniel's smile widened.

"Well, it was even hard for me to believe that someone as young as Elrohir could be among the participants. No wonder he is so nervous."

Celebrian offered another simple smile.

"He is young, but he is a talented warrior," she noted fondly, but in her eyes anyone could read how worried she seemed. She looked in her son's direction again, resting her palm upon her heart. "He's been winning all the tournaments Glorfindel's organized since his feet first stepped on the training field. I know those aren't anything compared to what is happening here involving all these great combatants…" She stopped for a minute, then sighed. "Even so, I'm happy that a group of warriors with more winters and battles in their pasts than anyone else here, have put their faith in him and have given him an opportunity to demonstrate his value."

Idhrenniel nodded.

"It's been so long since we have had a gathering of the best soldiers of the cities' guards," she added, looking around to the main square, where some of the visitors were also appreciating the innumerous splendors of the city. "Even some of Lord Celeborn's most valiant warriors are here."

Celebrian looked in the same direction and another subtle smile was on her face. She'd known some of those soldiers from her parents' land since she was a little child.

"Yes, they are here as well. Old friends of mine, worshipers of my father. I am glad they are here in this time of peace," she said with contented eyes.

"I feel the same, my lady…" Idhrenniel said thoughtfully. "This event couldn't have been held at a more opportune time. I am glad we can see our warriors using their swords as sporting instruments and not weapons of war.

Celebrian took a deep breath, pausing a minute to feel the weight of her friend's words.

"You are right, my dear Idhrenniel. This competition will be different from those Elrohir has faced thus far," she commented worriedly. "Mostly because he will be representing Glorfindel's banner. Glorfindel chose his players cautiously, testing them with several hard tasks over a long period of time. He is giving my son a great opportunity. Only Elrohir and Angahor were able to get through the decisive stages of the tournament and be classified into the semi-final competition. And Angahor graduated long ago with Ilfirion, Atarael, Arnamo and Lastone. Those elves have already been on patrol for some seasons. Elrohir is the youngest of them all."

"Only Angahor and Elrohir have made it this far because Elladan did not register himself to try to get a place in the tournament at all..." Idhrenniel observed with care, but her comments made the corners of the Lady of Imladris' mouth rise.

"Elladan has never accepted an invitation to any competition. This isn't the first time," she said, thinking caringly of her firstborn, whose mastery of many weapons was often praised by anyone who saw him in action.

"He is a healer," stated the dark-haired elf. "I have not seen such skill since his father."

"Well, he will be Elrohir's healer in this task, since each warrior must have his own healer. But I do hope we will not need their services in these days to come," Celebrian joked, and Idhrenniel raised her eyebrows and gave a small laugh.

* * *

The training fields were small for the magnitude of this great event. Each leader sent at least thirty soldiers to represent their homeland. Even though there were several events being staged, there were some competitions, like the sword bouts, that took everyone's attention. And it was in this category that the region of Imladris surprised their guests by introducing to them the younger, but undeniably brilliant, swordsman of the Last Homely House.

Elrohir had spent the entire fortnight dueling, defeating all his opponents and stealing the audience's applause. He had drawn the young ones' admiration, but more importantly, he'd made some of the older elves raise their eyebrows in surprise. Each of his opponents, all of them some good centuries older than the younger twin, were defeated in hard and very tiring combats. Some of the fights lasted an extensive period of time. It didn't take long for the guest fighters taking part in the event to change their minds about Glorfindel's inexperienced pupil. This young elf, toward which the skilled soldiers hadn't shown any concern, was, by the end of the first stages, ranked as someone to beat. Some soldiers were beginning to lose sleep over the prospect of fighting him.

"It's the first time that someone so young and inexpert was able to get this far in a tournament!" said a surprised Angahor. He and Elrohir hadn't shared anything that people would remotely call "friendship" until this day. Angahor and Elrohir were the only knights from Glorfindel's group who had not yet been eliminated from the earlier rounds of the tournament. However, after losing his final dispute of the day, Angahor had not felt terribly bad about the opportunity lost, because his opponent Baran—a humorous knight of the north—had experienced a similar bitter flavor in his next dispute. During the last minutes of that afternoon, when the stars had just begun to shine, Baran, the swordsman from one of the foreign lands, had faced the son of the host, and Elrohir stole from the overconfident warrior the desire to smile for some time afterward.

At that point, the younger twin won the friendship of Angahor, from whom the storms of fate had kept him separated since they were only elflings.

"He has been incredible since childhood, but these days he's unconquerable," Angahor admitted, receiving subtle looks of surprise from the others. Even Glorfindel couldn't hide his amazement at hearing Angahor professing words of admiration about Elrohir, and Angahor still seemed in awe of all he had been seeing since the beginning of the tournament.

In fact all of them were astonished with the coolness that took the twin's face as soon as he put his feet on the tournament field. Although he wasn't known as the most patient of Glorfindel's pupils, he always seemed to turn into another warrior on the training fields, taking the training seriously and doing his best. However, the way he was brandishing his weapon in this competition was totally different. He looked like an old and powerful tree, whose roots had dug into stone and whose height should amaze even the largest of birds. During the tournament the young son of Elrond concentrated even more than he had during training, being silent and deeply focused; seeming to remember what he had learned through the vow of silence he'd made during a period of his childhood.

"But having made it to the bouts of these latter stages does not make him a champion yet," recalled a visibly worried Glorfindel, while checking their weapons at the end of the day.

"But he's gotten got this far!" said Hérion, another childhood friend of the twins. "Tell us master… You have seen many disputes such as this. Do you think Elrohir has a chance?"

"You must be joking!" Beinion protested in a tone of disdain. He had never been one of Elrohir's friends. "Depending on the other results, Elrohir will have to face the second Captain of Mithlond tomorrow. Do you really think he has a chance? Everybody says that warrior is the most skilled swordsman in all of Eriador. I've even heard Lord Círdan didn't want to send him and deprive the havens of one of his best officers."

"He is still just an Elf," Glorfindel pointed out, but the power of Herion's question was still prodding his mind. Not because he didn't know what to answer to his ex-pupil, but because the answer for that question came so fast to his mind. Extremely fast actually; Yes, Elrohir was the most skilled warrior he had ever had the opportunity to teach. If there was anyone talented enough to be in the final fight and face the greatest warrior, that person was the stubborn dark haired elf. That person was Elrohir.

* * *

"Could you stand still for but a moment and hear what I have to tell you, elfling?" Glorfindel had tried everything he could think of to get the attention of a visibly agitated twin, who was now walking restlessly through the room, picking up and dropping various objects. He then began pulling books from a shelf only to place them elsewhere, pushing chairs around and scrambling up onto his brother's desk, moving all kinds of papers and messing up everything. The blond warrior had tolerated his pupil's listlessness for as long as his own almost nonexistent patience was able to endure. In a short time he was holding the younger twin's arm tightly, bringing him unwillingly to sit on his bed. "Right now you're going to lay your hard and empty head on that pillow, do you hear me? If you don't, you won't have enough energy for all of tomorrow's events."

"I have enough energy," protested the angry elf. "I don't understand why we keep having these stupid pauses. We left at the most important part of the competition."

"Perhaps we have these breaks so some people, who have the habit of sleeping a little, can do so," said Elladan from his bed. He had tried to convince his brother to rest as well, but when that failed he decided to try to sleep himself. His own absence of rest—caused by his eternal commitment of chasing after his younger brother, helping him, listening to his complaints and laments—was stealing the rest of his humor.

"Your brother is right, you stubborn elf." Glorfindel hadn't given up, and he forced the young elf to lie down and threw the covers over him. "If I hear another word out of you, I'll bring your father in here to sedate you."

Elrohir had practically thrown himself on the pillow, but on his face there were other expressions of indignation. Glorfindel read the challenge mirrored in Elrohir's eyes for a minute. He would have viewed the energy Elrohir channeled when confronting everyone as a positive weapon, if he hadn't been so worried about the young elf. Elrohir always acted as if he were pretending to be on the battle field, but now was not the right moment to play that game.

Whatever Elrohir's intention was, it seemed to disappear under his mentor's threat, and Glorfindel almost smiled when he realized it. In his years of teaching this stubborn elf, there were two things he could make Elrohir believe: His threats were never mere words, and he never said anything without having the intention of fulfilling the consequences.

"I cannot sleep, Glorfindel," Elrohir revealed at last, while he gripped the sheets that covered him. "It's easy for you to say _lay your hard and empty head down and sleep_, but doing that with a mind full of all sorts of images and ideas like are in mine now, is another thing. It would be a relief if my head were really hard and really empty…at least I might find that relaxing right now…"

Glorfindel listened to those complaints, and then he carefully analyzed the young elf's face. Elrohir had moved his eyes to the ceiling, but his dark pupils danced as if they were seeing a thousand scenes simultaneously. He shook his blond head then. He decided that it really was asking too much of an elf of Elrohir's age and nature to do what they were trying to impose on him. He had just come into maturity and there were still a few good seasons until his father could actually name him captain. Plus, he already had a challenge that took many fighters hundreds of years to be able to achieve.

"Do you know the last time a tournament of this magnitude was held?" Glorfindel asked.

Elrohir twisted his lips and wondered what prompted this question. Any elf in Imladris could answer it; even if a poor being had been dropped here accidentally by an eagle, he would know it as well.

"So, you stubborn elfling," Glorfindel said, not even waiting for the reply. "Most of the warriors who are here have never participated in such an impressive tournament, even though they are hundreds of years older than you are."

"I know that," Elrohir said as he frowned, even without understanding the reason behind the information. He was so unwilling to discuss trivialities, he could barely disguise his disgust. What he wanted at that moment was to jump out of his bed and go to the training camp. The tournament would only last two more days; why did he need to sleep now?

"I know you know. What you don't know is that each of the remaining warriors, just like you, will face their opponents by the semifinals tomorrow. If they are more clever than you, which I am sure they are, you can believe that they have been trying to rest, because they know very well what kind of battle they will be facing."

Elrohir grimaced.

"I know what kind of battle I'm going to face," he answered in annoyance. "I have been fighting in the tournament for more than a fortnight."

"More than a fortnight, Elrohir! You have gone without sleeping for more than a fortnight. If you would allow your body and mind to relax a little, instead of thinking of every detail of what happened today and in the days prior, then sleep would surely come to you. You've been holding yourself to this grueling schedule for so long that I cannot believe you are not feeling any kind of fatigue."

"No, I'm not. I'm not feeling any kind of fatigue. I'm not tired. I—am—not—tired," repeated the young elf, saying it slowly only to provoke his master. "I do not know why I need to sleep if I'm not tired."

A snort of discontent escaped from Glorfindel's lips as he sat heavily on his pupil's bed. He heard Elladan mumble something like, _stubborn_ _elf_, _I'm going to sedate him myself_... as he turned over to his other side in search of some peace.

Glorfindel resisted the desire to actually ask Elrond to talk to his son, because he knew what it would symbolize if he did. The warriors who were accepted into the event were required to have contact with a minimum of people during the tournament. It was part of the rules; in the final stages the warrior could have only his mentor and his healer by his side. As Elrond was the host of the event, Elrohir had not objected to having his brother in the role of his healer. So if Glorfindel brought Elrond or Celebrian here to speak to Elrohir, he would have to give a reason to the Council about the purpose of the visit.

Glorfindel sighed and another snort escaped from his mouth. Telling the Council that he needed the presence of the warrior's parents because an elf, who wasn't a child for some good winters, just did not want to sleep, definitely wasn't among the kinds of reasons the Council would even consider.

The Council was composed of several elves from all the realms that were represented in the tournament. They were invited by the leader of Imladris, and it had taken a great deal of conversation before Glorfindel had persuaded Elrond to organize the event. Tournaments of this type weren't repeated for long periods of time, because the ages had been swallowed by sad moments of conflict or inhibited for long years because of real wars, which had made such activity totally unnecessary to any warrior.

However, in these days of peace, which encompassed more summers than many who had seen the pain of war might be able to believe or expect, the idea of the tournament had been so well received that some of the most illustrious warriors had come or had sent their most valiant officers. Many crossed over the lands eagerly and entered the city in the valley with radiant smiles and words of encouragement and praise to Elrond for the initiative he'd taken. They seemed gratified to be here and were showing their appreciation in the words they said and through their offers of help.

Glorfindel closed his eyes and breathed deeply, but when he reopened them to renew his attempt to make the problematic young elf sleep—maybe hitting him with a straight left—that would certainly force the twin to rest for at least a few hours—the image he saw suddenly made him forget why he was so angry. Elrohir had fallen asleep with his face tilted up and his lips slightly parted. Glorfindel shook his head again.

"Stubborn elfling," he said softly with a small smile. "You always do that to me; make my nerves go to their limits and then just follow my advice." His eyes moved down to look at the visible marks left on Elrohir by the events in which he'd already participated. The healers were having more work to do than was expected at the start of the tournament, and many disputes were finished or discontinued due to the injury of one of the participants. It was as if a long period of peace had concentrated a burning desire for some excitement in the fighters' hearts, sometimes causing the bouts to become too serious.

Glorfindel took a deep breath, worried, placing his palm gently on Elrohir's arm, where one of the numerous bruises from his previous battles had bloomed on his skin. Elrohir was really quick and certainly one of the least affected of all other participants, but he still had to endure the battles of tomorrow, and that was what his blond master was more worried about than he wished to be.

* * *

"And if he wins the trials today, master?" The always interested Herion joined his blond master, along with all the other former pupils, as soon as he appeared in the training camp the following morning. Glorfindel looked up at the blue sky above, asking for a little more patience, so that he wouldn't explode right there.

"You know what happens with the winner of the trials today. He will have the opportunity to confront an _Alcarinquallo_ or _Alcarinquë_."

"_Elbereth_!" Angahor shook his head, as if to dispel that idea, which sent tingles down his spine. The _Alcarinqua_ were elves considered "venerable", all of them experienced elves with deeds of such valor to their names that they were exempt from needing to demonstrate their skills in a tournament such as this. Glorfindel was among those chosen ones.

"Who else besides you, Master?" Insisted Beinion, who had repeated that question so many times that Glorfindel was already tired of trying to find an evasive reply to it.

"You know I cannot tell you. Each of the groups represented by a banner are the only ones who know their choice."

"I have an idea of who they might be…" Angahor said thoughtfully, already thinking that being disqualified from the tournament before the finals had not been so bad.

"What are your guesses, Angahor?" Herion wanted to know, moving his clear eyes to his friend.

"Well... Lord Celeborn is here..."

"_Elbereth!_" all the pupils now exclaimed in unison. "But is there the possibility of Elrohir facing a relative such as Lord Celeborn in the final bout?" Herion asked.

"He will face who the Council decides he will face," Glorfindel said, exasperated. "The Council will not facilitate the victor. Certainly the worst threat of the Alcarinqua will be selected to confront whoever the winner turns out to be."

"They will not facilitate? What do you mean?"

"Worst? Lord Celeborn would certainly be the worst opponent, wouldn't he?"

"Tell us, Master!"

The young elves interjected their questions rapidly, each of them caught between curiosity and concern. While Glorfindel had his doubts, to Elrohir's friends the twin's victory was something certain.

"He still has to face Enel Baradobel, the main captain of the guard headed by Lord Eilafion of _Mithlond_ and one of the right-hand elves of Lord Círdan," Beinion added. "That is, if he is able to beat the other three elves he has to face in the trials of today."

"The lottery for drawing opponents really has not favored Elrohir at all," Angahor admitted with a frustrated tone. "I've never seen an elf draw opponents as difficult as he has been made to face since the tournament started. Enel was luckier. He, of course, will be at the final trial of today."

"Lord Enel will also have to win the fights for it," Herion said with his chin up. He did not want to give that elf more credit than the others.

"He will do that..." Glorfindel's gaze was now distant and preoccupied, and he made the remark like someone who was talking to himself. His ex-pupils could see that, of all the trials of that day, this was the one that worried him most.

"And Elrohir will also be there to meet him." That observation came from Angahor, and it was his comment that brought some peace to Glorfindel's heart. At least the tournament had resulted in something good. It established ties of friendship that would be needed in the future.

"I heard that Enel dislikes Elrohir." Beinion's comment seemed to throw Glorfindel in his indigestible wave of doubts again, besides awakening sounds of disapproval from the small group.

"There you go again, Beinion!" protested some of them.

"These are old tales. They are not true," Angahor said. "Lord Enel is a seasoned elf. He has more than a millennium of service in the Haven. He has participated in major battles. What might he have against someone who still has so few deeds to his name as Elrohir?"

Glorfindel knew that answer, but chose to keep it to himself. Enel was the chief of the guards at the Haven, responsible for security at the dock as well as at sea. Certainly the news that a young elfling had managed to not only get into town and walk the pier without being discovered, but also cross the gulf on a children's raft unnoticed, and then breach a forbidden place, were not exploits that garnered any praise from the Eldar Captain at the time. The boy became something of a legend in Círdan's town. Some of the elves that came from _Mithlond_ even wanted to meet Elrohir, to see firsthand the author of that feat. Círdan himself had sent the young elf his wish for good luck.

Yes. Enel had many reasons for wanting to steal some of the bright light from that naughty elfling, who had transformed his life into a storm and had still gained merits for the delinquencies he had committed.


	2. THE FIGHT

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters and sceneries belongs to JRR Tolkien._

* * *

_**CHAPTER TWO – THE FIGHT**_

_Revenge proves its own executioner._

John Ford, _The Broken Heart_

* * *

And Glorfindel had been right in many of his ideas about the near future, among them the fact that Enel would be in the last trial of the day. The warrior from The Gulf of Lune was among the most efficient soldiers that this Tournament had seen, and Glorfindel was worried because he'd been unable to observe Enel's techniques. As Elrohir's mentor, he was not allowed to depart from the concentration sector, not even to watch other disputes. This area consisted of the training field, the fighting field, where their bouts were held, and also their resting places. All the other participants were accommodated in the visiting guests area; little constructions neighboring the main house, which were built to settle whoever came to the city for a few days or even seasons, and that is where they were obligated to stay when they weren't training or fighting. Since Elrohir lived in Imladris, his resting place was his room in The Last Homely House, so when wasn't involved in tournaments activities, he and Elladan, as well as Glorfindel, were confined to staying in the house.

Now Glorfindel was worried, since he was unaware of the arts of war that the auburn-haired elf from Cirdan's lands might possess. Yes, the soldier whose eyes were the color of a storm concerned him greatly; especially considering that many rumors were running in Imladris, saying that the warrior was able to turn each moment of his fight into a spectacle, amazing the crowd.

Yes, Glorfindel had many reasons for being interested and worried about Enel Baradobel's abilities, including a fact he was having difficulty believing: His stubborn dark-haired pupil had actually surpassed all expectations. Despite being clearly disadvantaged by fate in the lottery that day, as he had also been in the days before by being made to face the worst opponents, Elrohir had managed to get through those most difficult trials and achieve the place as the challenger of the second captain of the Grey Havens. They would face each other in the ultimate duel from which the official champion of the Valley Tournament would be decided.

And that battlefield was never so full of people, even after the trials had extended late into the night, and many people were nearing exhaustion from a too long day. If the rules of such an event had not been used for millennia just as they were, the Council organizer would have requested to postpone the final conflict for at least a few hours." But the written rules were clear, and the ones who remembered having to follow them since the Millennial Tournament were even more emphatic about the guidelines. A good warrior should always be prepared for a battle, no matter how many other trials he had been in previously.

And they were prepared. Both Enel Baradobel and Elrohir vehemently shook their heads when hearing about the possibility of such a postponement. When it was obvious that the match would be held as scheduled, the members of the audience were divided, not knowing which of the great warriors to support.

Elrohir, as the representative of the hosting house, was the first to enter the field and was waiting for his opponent. He was cheered with songs of praise and good wishes, which he responded to with slight nods, placing a hand on his chest as he walked across the field with his helmet under his arm. In friendly competitions the use of a complete set of armor of war was unnecessary, because the warriors used blunted swords, but in official tournaments like this one, some protection was necessary, given that no swordsman dispensed with using his closest companion, his weapon of war.

"He's really amazing," Galadriel observed proudly, watching her focused grandson, walking thoughtfully in his crimson and silver armor. His gaze met hers briefly and they exchanged small smiles. "I would not want to be the one to face him in the final."

"Neither would I, my Light," Celeborn said from beside her, offering a slight nod when his grandson's eyes sought him out.

"But you are among the _Alcarinqua_, my wise spouse," Galadriel said with a subtle provoking smile, without really looking at her husband. "The chance that the Council will summon you for the final trial is something to be considered."

Celeborn didn't have an answer to that, but if his wife's attention hadn't still been so keenly drawn to her grandson walking onto the war field, she would have seen his worried expression. It was customary that, for the finals, the Council called the most improbable opponent, who, just by his mere presence, would subdue the challenger being tested. The chance of that person being a close relative of the champion, or someone for whom he felt an extreme admiration, was great.

"If my heart would allow me, I would not support him in this fight," Celebrian commented beside her mother, reading the concerns in her parents' faces.

"I do not know which loss would be worse for him. Enel plays a provocative game that makes him an opponent by whom it is quite unpleasant to be defeated." The comment came from Erestor, who, as one of the official rapporteurs, had attended all the trials that he could.

Suddenly the public cries grew and the figure of the Haven's Captain rose, accompanied by his two assistants. Enel Baradobel was not a newly formed apprentice, so no mentor accompanied him. He was only attended by his weapon master and his healer.

Elrohir went to the center of the field as soon as he saw him and stayed there waiting motionless as the rules required him to. He had studied everything about the original contests of this type, especially the first one in anyone's memory called the Millennial Tournament, and he was one of the few not to take any punishment for breaking or violating the harsh and rigid rules of the event. This fact was something that particularly aroused the admiration of all, especially those who knew his cranky spirit, but it created more reasons for concern in the hearts of those who wished him well. It was clear how seriously the young elf was taking this test.

Enel passed the entrance hall with his eyes already fixed on his opponent. His set of armor was one of the most beautiful Elrohir had ever seen, a bluish silver that reflected a perfect tribute to the beautiful ports he represented. Elrohir breathed in slowly when he felt the provocative glow in his opponent's eyes settle on him. However, one very important piece of information of which Enel did not have knowledge, was that this type of opponent, one who relished antagonizing his foe, was exactly the sort that the younger twin most appreciated facing. He preferred to disguise himself as an enemy and fight as if he hated his opponent, than to be forced to confront someone who treated him with consideration and respect.

They took their positions then, facing each other in the center of the field. The judge of the dispute, an elf chosen among the other captains, who happened to be one of the members of the Lothlorien staff, positioned himself in front of the opponents and fulfilled the protocol, reminding them of the rules and charging them to extend a formal greeting to one another before beginning. Elrohir answered promptly, placing a hand on his chest and bowing, but Enel took a few moments to do the same, as he kept staring at the host's son for as long as he could. Only when the judge made a brief sound of disapproval, did Enel repeat the courtesy of his challenger, yet he did not look away from him at all during the short time it took to observe the reverence.

However, to his displeasure, Enel realized that the young, and in his eyes inexperienced elf, worried little about the veiled threat that had been present in his purposely provoking act. Quite the contrary. Elrohir merely returned the gaze received, not escaping or avoiding it for a moment, not even when Enel's lips drafted a wry smile and he muttered the word "boy" in a tone that was meant for only the twin to hear.

After that the little communication between them came from the sound of their swords. Elrohir waited, as he had been taught, for his opponent to take the initiative, but the next several actions came almost totally from the twin. The fight was getting more and more fierce, while Enel's eyes narrowed, looking incredulous that this battle could be so hard.

With time Elrohir showed the Mithlond captain what his master had taught him, and Enel stopped feeling he was fighting against a novice fresh out of training with wooden swords. He forced himself to accept that he had indeed found a powerful opponent. When Elrohir, after many less risky maneuvers, swung his sword and brought it up in an unexpected and rapid diagonal, jerking his opponent's weapon upward and out of his hand, Enel felt his growing doubts had substance and were coming true sooner than he had expected.

But he was not the second captain and one of Círdan's favorite warriors for nothing. Therefore, Elrohir's last act had barely materialized when his opponent jumped, recovering his weapon in the air and spinning his body in a surprising maneuver that quickly took him out of his rival's field of vision. The twin had a moment of astonishment at observing a movement which he had never seen. However, when Enel fell back to the ground repositioning himself to hit his opponent from behind with his sword hilt, Elrohir thrust his body upward and mimicked the movement recently learned. Using Enel's slightly bent back as support, he made a full circle in the air, falling again in front of his opponent and stealing all sorts of sounds from the surprised spectators admiring what they saw.

And awakened an ire in Enel that hadn't been caused by any opponent for a very long while...

"Thief of swords. Rapist and usurper of sacred territories. How long do you think your impertinence will generate sounds of approval from those around you?" he found himself asking, narrowing his eyes once more. When he'd heard this competitor's name as his next challenger, he'd promised himself he would not let the boy, who in the past had been the specter of his nastiest nightmares, steal his peace again as he had for so many years. But now he was realizing how much that promise weighed and how impossible it was going to be to fulfill.

Elrohir did not answer the question since it was not really directed at him. Actually he'd known that sooner or later, Enel would come up with such a speech. Glorfindel had warned him about it; in fact his mentor almost made him insane enunciating day after day all the barbarities he thought the captain would have the courage to taunt him with. The twin breathed deeply, remembering he'd felt the desire to punch his mentor, but now he could only thank Glorfindel for teaching him a lesson well learned.

The battle continued tirelessly and the viewers were confronted by all sorts of emotions. Sometimes Enel's sword passed inches from the twin and other times Elrohir almost managed to repeat his first movement and steal his opponent's weapon again. But these were not just any warriors, and the captain of the port city was now struggling not only as one who tries to win a fight, but as someone who wants to restore his integrity. Elrohir felt it in him, in the sudden change in the look the elf lord directed at him. There wasn't anger in it anymore, an anger Elrohir actually preferred to see. Instead of that emotion, he could see extreme concentration, as if the soldier had decided to treat him now as the opponent he actually was; a dangerous opponent that could lead him to ruin.

Elrohir now coldly analyzed his adversary and, as he had noticed in his first maneuver, Enel had in his battle techniques precise movements of fighting that his master Glorfindel, who preferred a conflict on the ground, had not taught his disciples. And Enel was using them now, employing abusing blows in the air, escaping from Elrohir's attacks with magnificent leaps that made the dark-haired elf's weapon meet only air.

Enel wanted to beat him by exhaustion. Exhaust him until the precision of his movements was compromised.

Enel, however, did not know two important facts about Elrohir: The first was that the younger twin never got tired. The second...

…was that he learned very quickly...

After Elrohir avoided Enel's next aerial maneuver, the warrior had an unexpected encounter. Elrohir also jumped, and his half-human body, though heavier than Enel's, moved up with equal skill, meeting his opponent in mid-air, only to collide shoulder against shoulder with him and knock him to the ground.

Enel fell so quickly and heavily on the sandy ground that, in an unthinking instinct of defense, he moved his sword as soon as Elrohir's feet dug into the earth, his body erect in front of him, hitting the younger elf, cutting his leg in an extensive wound and stealing the first sound from the twin since the conflict began.

Elrohir fell to his knees, placing his palm on his bloodied thigh. The tournament armors were of the perfect weight to not be heavy or uncomfortable, but only to protect the vital parts of the warrior's body. They used a light armor; a helmet with no visor, a breastplate, pauldrons at their shoulders, cops, but no heavy cuisses or greaves which the warrior dispensed of in favor of more speed in the fight. There was no real protection for the legs except for tall boots. For this reason Enel's attack, though unintentional, would be converted into a grave mistake, an act of extreme irregularity, considering that his opponent was not prepared for it.

Enel rose immediately, already holding Elrohir's arm before the others arrived, but the young elf freed himself at the same moment, in an instinct more of defense than of genuine reprisal.

"I won't harm you, boy," Enel said as he raised his right hand, displeased that his intention had been misunderstood. "I did not mean to hurt you."

Elrohir had a very short time to look at his opponent before Elladan's arms were around him and he felt the reassuring presence of his brother, but the message that his eyes directed to the captain was more than clear.

He was not a boy. He was not _that_ boy.

* * *

"_Elbereth_, Elrohir, let me finish."

"It's not that serious. The pain isn't bothering me so much," Elrohir said as he held his brother's arm tightly, so much so that Elladan was having a hard time trying to convince Elrohir to lie down. The young healer finally decided to just tear his patient's pants away from the injury, so that he could see and treat the wound rather than wait for any cooperation from him.

"Let me finish," Elladan repeated once more, trying to find the patience he needed. However, the fact that he hadn't said a thing about Elrohir's comment just unnerved his brother more, giving Elrohir many unpleasant and somewhat elusive meanings for what his twin's intentions were.

"You will not declare me incapable of continuing, do you hear me?" he said, then tightened his hold on his brother's arm. "If you do, I'll never speak to you again, Elladan."

The threat, after all the other complaints that preceded it, finally took the older twin's patience away. Elladan dropped the bandages before he'd finished wrapping them around Elrohir's leg and looked his brother in the eyes.

"I do not tell you how to train, Elrohir. I do not tell you how to win your fights. Do not begin to tell me how to do something for which I have been preparing myself at least as long and as hard as you have to reach this point. Because if you say another word I leave this room and ask the official healer to take over the care of you."

Elrohir was silent, his bright eyes still fixed on his brother's. Elladan breathed in deeply, turning again to his task, but Elrohir realized that his twin's hands were shaking now. He reached out and held them and said:

"Forgive me, Dan."

Elladan exhaled, still nervous.

"This is a very dangerous area, Ro..." He shook his head without looking up, remembering the horrible feeling he'd had when he saw the amount of blood that flowed from his brother's leg when he went to help him.

"But you have already done the suturing..."

"You cannot use this leg…"

"I can. You know I can."

Elladan shook his head again.

"_Ilúvatar_, Elrohir... Why? Just tell me why. Lord Enel committed an infraction. If I declare you unable to continue due to injury, which would be the truth, the fight would end here and the Council would probably be obliged to declare you champion."

"Being declared champion does not make me champion indeed."

Elladan clicked his tongue, disgruntled.

"You fought bravely. You didn't commit any infractions at all. You were as precise as I have ever seen you be."

Elrohir looked down, then sighed in displeasure.

"Enel was winning, scoring points in his favor with those escapades that left me in the dust."

"I do not think that kind of defense is considered so valuable by the judges in this tournament," Elladan said, after thinking about those irritating fighting movements that Enel used as his major tactic at the end of the dispute, and it made him shake his head again. "Furthermore, Lord Enel committed a serious fault. If he did indeed win some points, he lost some when he injured you. You did not commit any fault. He was on the ground because you found a way to escape from that irritating trap that he insisted on setting. He did not play a very fair game, Ro. It was obvious he was trying to tire you out so that the conflict would be easier for him."

"I do not want to be the winner by a stroke of luck."

"Oh my good _Elbereth_!" Elladan cried, shaking his head with more vigor now. "And since when is being hit in the leg by a razor sharp sword, by an opponent using tactics that may not have been unfair, but were certainly illegal, be called a stroke of luck?"

"I want to win on my own merits, Dan."

Elladan just shook his head again, as he had been doing with every word he'd heard since he brought his twin back to their bedroom, his attention now focused on getting finished tying the bandages. After doing so, the young elf rested both hands on the protected wound and concentrated his healing abilities over the injury. A few moments later the pain was almost completely gone.

Elrohir parted his lips, amazed as he always was when seeing his brother use his abilities. Lady Idhrenniel, a very experienced healer, was the first to praise Elladan's skills. Some of them were so exceptional that even Elrond was surprised with the precocity of his firstborn, as well as with the means Elladan used in his acts of healing, so different from many of the other professionals in the city. Elladan had the spirit of the old healers.

"I doubt that any member of this Tournament has a better healer than I have," he said, and Elladan twisted his lips in disgust, thinking that his brother was flattering him only so that he would cooperate with his absurd idea. However, when he looked at him, he found him with a subtle smile that he rarely used. Elrohir was being sincere and that touched his brother's heart.

"Any healer in my place would not allow you to fight," Elladan said in spite of this discovery, and Elrohir looked down, nodding his head in agreement.

"All right. I will concede defeat then."

"You have nothing to concede. Victory is yours."

"I will offer it to Lord Enel. I can do that. He is superior to me. It will be interesting to see him facing one of the _Alcarinqua_ tomorrow."

Elladan twisted his lips again.

"Do you want to willingly offer the competition prize to that arrogant elf from the havens?"

"He's a good fighter; if that was not so, he would not have gotten this far."

"He can be a good warrior, but he failed in his last challenge."

"I also failed; I was hit."

"You were hit by something unexpected and unacceptable. How could you protect yourself from something that should not have actually happened?"

"I should have anticipated it. Glorfindel tirelessly repeated to us that the moment that requires our utmost attention is precisely the one in which the opponent is already on the ground. I should have remembered that."

Elladan then snorted.

"You were not in a real conflict, Elrohir. This was a competition. A competition with rules, clear rules, rules that Lord Enel disobeyed. He failed."

"But tomorrow he will fight a good fight. He will not make the same mistake twice. I will give him the chance to not commit it."

"Elrohir."

"It will be better this way."

"Better for whom?"

"Better for me."

"Better for you? How is giving up something for which you have been preparing yourself for so long a time better for you?"

"It's better than coming into the final bout of a competition such as this one, and feeling as if I've stolen in by an unlocked window."

Elladan stopped for a moment, his lips parted in a search of an answer, but his eyebrows drew together in lack of comprehension.

"What nonsense is this?" he finally asked.

"I am the son of the host. _Ada_ is a member of the Council, _daerada_ and Glorfindel are also, in addition to other friends of our father, of _our _family. Do you think it won't come to everyone's mind that I'm being favored?"

This time Elladan looked incredulously at his brother.

"You don't mean that, do you, Elrohir? Who would think that? You've had bad luck in the lottery during the entire competition. You faced very difficult opponents. Lord Enel did not have to do half the work you had to in order to reach the semifinals. At no time could anyone in the tournament think you were being favored. Not anyone."

"Because they watched me fighting and winning." Elrohir moved his bright eyes to his brother's once more, his voice affected by emotion. "It was the only way that I could erase from people's minds the idea that I was in the tournament in the first place because of who I am related to. You know that, Dan. You know how hard the first trials were; no one thought I would advance at all in this competition. They thought I was favored even to be chosen to compete. _The young apprentice recently got a sharp edge on his sword and already wants to be a warrior in the Grand Tournament_," Elrohir said, repeating the insinuation he had heard several times. "Damn it, Dan, the audience was not by my side at the beginning; and many of them were our own people, Elves of Rivendell. They really thought I was being benefited, that the other members of the Council had allowed my presence because of our family. It took an incredible amount of work for me to gain the trust of our folk... It took a lot of work for me to get some credit... And that only happened because I respected all the rules, even the most insignificant of them, and because I won..." Elrohir completed his outburst, his eyes already wet with sadness and anger. "It was exactly what I wanted. I wanted to reach the final by fighting and winning."

Elladan sighed sadly, resting his palm on his brother's leg.

"You succeeded, Ro. You fought and won."

"I fought, I got hit and now I will be favored because my opponent made a totally understandable mistake."

"It was not like that..."

"Of course it was, Dan. I refuse to perform in that role. Lord Enel can go to the final. Nobody will judge an elf with his history."

Elladan opened his mouth to offer opposition, but then he shook his head again, as a fleeting idea crossed his mind: that Elrohir was using this outburst, though fair and sounding reasonable, using indirect pressure to make his healer brother do what he wanted him to.

"All right. If you think it is fair to give the victory to Enel then do it. I will not say another word. You know what is best for you," he said, pretending to agree, just to see how far his brother would take this maneuver.

But Elrohir closed his eyes, and then covered them with his left arm. His skin was pale and his brightness was decreased by an intense sadness. Elladan frowned, surprised to realize that his brother had spoken seriously. _Elbereth_, he would really prefer being judged as a coward of an elf who gave up on a trial on the eve of victory than feel favored.

That was how Glorfindel found them, after finally being able to leave the Council room, where the case was being judged.

"How is he?" he asked in a low tone as he entered, judging the twin asleep.

Elladan looked at his brother one last time before answering.

"He will be fine."

"But he can't compete anymore, can he?" inquired the blond elf, already rushing to place a hand on his pupil's wounded leg. Elladan, however, stopped him before he found his mark, and the cautious movement of the older twin brought his mentor's eyes to him.

"Elrohir will continue. How long do we have?"

Glorfindel frowned, but that information had not awakened only his air of surprise. Elrohir slowly moved his arm away from his eyes, as if he had not believed what his brother had just said.

"You must be joking, Elladan." Glorfindel understood more than he wanted to about what was happening here, so when Elrohir hastened to get up, he grabbed him by one arm.

"I can continue," the youngest twin quickly said. "Dan has sutured the wound. And I'm not in pain."

The blonde elf did not even bother to respond to that. All he did was place his hand on Elrohir's injury, and using only slight pressure, was able to steal a grimace of pain and a barely contained moan from the warrior.

"Of course you are not in pain. And I'm _Thorondor_, King of Eagles."

Elladan got angry then. He pulled his mentor's hand away quickly.

"You need not be cruel, Glorfindel."

"Of course I need to," Glorfindel exploded. "I was negotiating the outcome of this conflict with the Council before I came here. Enel committed a grave infraction. Period! He had already exceeded the acceptable level of provocation he was using. Period! He was clearly buying time trying to get us to spend ours. Period!"

"These are war tactics," Elrohir said.

"War tactics he can use at his home on the edge of the Gulf, with those elves full of patience, who spend the day counting how many gulls perch on the pier."

"Glorfindel..." Elrohir tried to argue, but his mentor seemed to already have heard enough.

"PERIOD, Elrohir!" he said raising his palm and the tone of his voice. "He could have hit you in a vital region, a nerve, an artery. But the rules say that he could not do so. This was a competition field and not a battlefield."

"A competition field is a battlefield."

"And in what place have you read this nonsense, elfling?" the blond leader wanted to know, his angry face even more fierce.

Elrohir clenched his teeth and visibly swallowed the answer he wanted to give. Glorfindel subtly tilted his face then, knowing well what that attitude meant and disliking what he understood of the situation. He continued to stare at his pupil from the corners of his eyes.

"You're angry at the wrong person, elfling," he said coldly. "By the way, you are angry without reason. Victory is yours."

"I didn't win the fight."

"Not all fights are won with fists and weapons."

"But I wanted to win this as a fair fight and not by being favored because of a stupid rule."

"Be respectful, boy!" Glorfindel raised his finger at his disciple. "When you studied the Millennial Tournament in all its detail I do not remember seeing you classifying any of the information you read in this particular way. Quite the contrary. I only heard your praise for the rigor of the process and the sense of justice that was established."

Elrohir looked down at his hand that was resting atop the bandage on his leg. He was sitting on his bed, but his desire was to rush out of the room. He then took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but eventually ended up shaking his head indignantly.

"I can fight. I want to fight."

"You are in no position to decide what you will or will not do," Glorfindel said incisively. "What kind of nonsense do you have on your mind, Elrohir? Enel was not joking, and I doubt that he would change his tactics in this or any fight. I know warriors such as he, who used to win battles by the most unexpected and questionable ways. There is no credit in a fight that does not happen on the ground. I've never understood this technique. It seems stupid to me, more of a gutless maneuver than a tactic of war. The biggest proof I have that this kind of escape turns the warrior into a coward is that once feeling threatened, he hit you on pure instinct of defense, without even thinking about what he was doing. He could have harmed you greatly; he could have harmed you permanently."

"But I am not harmed permanently," Elrohir said between his teeth, his eyes closed, as if he counted to ten.

"But you could have been."

"But I am not!" Elrohir almost cried, unable to contain his frustration and standing up just to show his mentor the truth of his words.

"Do you want to be so? This must be your desire if you want me to let you go into the field after being injured."

"Others have been injured and have returned to fight."

"Because their healers stated that their wounds were not of extreme gravity," completed the blond elf, who narrowed his eyes in displeasure when Elrohir lifted his chin toward his brother, as if to remind his master of what his healer had just attested. Glorfindel shook his head then, offering to Elladan a look that anyone would be able to understand very well.

The older twin took a deep breath.

"He can fight, Glorfindel," he repeated, but the uncertainty of his voice just added more spicy seasonings to the blond master's mood.

"You want to drive me insane, don't you?" he said. "What was I thinking when I decided to bring an inexperienced warrior and an equally inexpert healer for such a serious Tournament?" he completed, walking to the door.

This time it was Elladan who felt offended. He breathed in deeply as if for the first time he would finally face down his mentor. However, all he ended up doing was lowering his head again and shaking it sadly. He knew that Glorfindel had reasons to question his decision, but even so, his criticism brought the younger elf a worse feeling than any he'd ever had when he'd heard his master's acid comments in the past.

"You could trust our judgment," he said, trying to disguise the disappointed tone in his voice.

"And you could trust mine." Glorfindel turned back, already at the door. "I think my years of experience speak louder than the knowledge of you two together. Especially since your knowledge is distorted by this foolish pride that is guiding you both now."

This time Elrohir, who had been trying not to lose his mind since the tournament started, saw all of his efforts be for nothing.

"I will fight, whether you want me to or not," he said.

"You are still my disciple and not a master, like many here. The one who decides if the disciple fights or does not is not the disciple or his healer. It's his master."

And those were the words that seemed to be what caused an already boiling broth to finally overflow.

"You know what?" Elrohir walked around the room, inadvertently demonstrating no trouble in doing it. He then stopped in front of his mentor, staring at him with a pair of darkened eyes. "If you do not let me finish my fight I will give the victory to Lord Enel. He can fight with one of _Alcarinqua_ tomorrow. I hope they choose you to face him."

Glorfindel's eyes darkened as well and in a way that Elrohir had never seen before. He breathed deeply, holding his pupil's gaze with his.

"You can fight if you want to. But not under my banner," he said, and then left without waiting for an answer, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

**I'd like to give thank to all friends who decided to be with me in this new story: Gwedhiel0117, world-classgeek,sokkergurl, Glory Bee, Evereven, DreamingIn2Eternity, LalaithElerrina, SilvanShemesh,Lia Whyteleafe, Pitybe. Hope you have appreciated this chapter. Hope new friends come to be with me as well. Many thanks again to Puxinette, my kind and patient beta.**


	3. THE TRIAL

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters and sceneries belongs to JRR Tolkien._

* * *

**CHAPTER III – THE TRIAL**

_I did not want the victory, but the fight._

August Strindberg

* * *

When the members of the Council gathered again before the public, hardly anyone believed that they were seeing Elrohir returning dressed in his armor. There were still many people waiting to hear the resolution of the case, and almost nobody had left the field, wanting to find out if the rumors were true that Enel would be disqualified and the victory would be given to the son of the host.

Enel had also been waiting for such news. As he anticipated the decision of the Council, he held his helmet in both hands and kept his eyes cast downward. He frowned when the two identical brothers resurfaced without their master.

The Council members looked at each other. They were representatives of the elven realms of the four corners of Middle-earth, but many had learned the rules of this kind of competition in the same way that Elrohir had; through the ancient scriptures.

The group's leader, elected by the other Council members of the tournament, was the first to look at the young, dark-haired elf, and he gazed at him from top to bottom. Balanidhren was a Sinda elf, the only representative of Eryn Galen, the realm of Thranduil. The King of the Green Forest decided not to send any of his warriors to compete in the Tournament, but to avoid any diplomatic misunderstanding; he had sent one of the old former advisers from the time of his father's reign as his representative.

"Lord Elrohir. Are you still in combat gear?" he asked, offering his statement in a questioning tone that everyone understood well.

Elrohir waited a moment to answer, breathing deeply, then he just nodded his head, trying to look firm in his purpose. Seeing this, the tournament leader seemed to understand the meaning of that silence, so he did what the rules advised, turning to the elf next to the warrior.

"Lord Elladan?" He gave the final word to the oldest brother, the combatant's healer, who understood his cue.

"My warrior does not want to conclude his fight in this way," he said, and the end of his sentence was almost swallowed by all sorts of exclamations and comments from others who had been waiting for the result of the Council's meeting.

The leader raised a hand for silence and was promptly obeyed.

"And what does his healer say?"

Elladan looked down for a minute, then raised his eyes again.

"My desire is that my brother could recover better before resuming this bout." He was sincere, abandoning briefly the formal discourse. "But, as his healer, I see no obstacle of such gravity that would prevent him from continuing."

"That's absurd!" The comment, among many others that emerged, came from Enel's healer. Despite knowing that his fighter would be favored, the elf of Lindon seemed not to enjoy the idea of a victory achieved this way.

"Would you like to express your opinion, Lord Mithrion?" the Council leader questioned, acknowledging the lord elf's indignation.

"Of course. This Tournament is full of irregularities," complained the healer, looking alternately at the two brothers. "These two... these two _boys_ should not be playing the roles they have been given. Everyone can see that they reached the age of adulthood too few summers ago. What credit can we give to their opinion, especially of that one playing the role of a master at healing?"

Elrohir lifted his chin, because until that moment he had managed to swallow all sorts of ill-worded protests regarding his age and inexperience in the tournament, but he was not willing to see his brother offended, yet he simply said nothing.

But Elladan just held his brother's arm gently, his face holding no trace of an expression that could describe what he felt.

"Lord Mithrion," he said, resting a hand on his chest and bowing slightly. "I appreciate your concern for my warrior. However, I ask that I be granted the same vote of confidence that was given to him at the start of the Tournament. From what I can see, my brother Elrohir did not disappoint those who bet he could be an effective swordsman. Hopefully by the end of this competition, you can have an equally positive judgment about my knowledge of the art of healing."

The lord pressed his lips together, but finally gave way in front of the young healer's defensive speech. He just shook his head, still displeased.

"You are a son of Elrond _Perendhel_," he finally said, looking for the Imladris leader among the Council members. "Could we listen to what your father might have to say about it, then?"

Elrond was intrigued, and had absorbed the entire scene, but now he found himself in a truly indigestible position. If he could, he would already be listing a series of reasons to convince his sons that their stance was absurd. Actually he had never even imagined that the twins would take such a course. Elrohir, in the unanimous opinion of the Council, had been considered champion, given his unquestionable trajectory of clean victories and the faults committed by Enel Baradobel. Glorfindel hadn't even told him anything about his son's opposition to accepting such a judgment.

However, having Mithrion imposing such a position on him, Elrond saw himself totally unwilling to judge his own son in front of so many important members. He knew Elladan, and something in his son's eyes seemed to make very clear that what he was doing was not entirely of his will. But he trusted his firstborn's judgment. He had to trust; to believe that, in order to make such a decision, Elladan's good heart had balanced all the pros and cons he could see. After all, it was his reputation as a healer he now put into play, along with his brother's as a swordsman.

"As a member of the Council it is not for me to opine on the professionals who provide their service here, Lord Mithrion, except in extreme situations or if they themselves are questioning me," Elrond carefully said. "But as a healer and as a father, all I can say is that I have total confidence in any report that my eldest son makes," he completed, and the only relief he felt putting those half-truths outside his mouth was the brightness he saw emerging in his son's eyes. Elladan just placed his hand on his chest, closing his eyes as a sign of gratitude.

That scene was so striking, that it eventually silenced the others present, and small claims favorable to Elrohir began to sound from the middle of the crowd, motivating the young warrior to continue. However, something in Elrond's words seemed to still displease the healer from the Gulf of Lune. Mithrion looked alternately at the two brothers, and after a few moments, risked a bold comment.

"They are actually identical twins."

Elladan frowned, but Elrohir, who was faster at deciphering contentious remarks than his brother was, lifted his chin again. He took two steps toward Mithrion then and seemed unwilling to accept any more of his comments.

"Do you want to see if the same opponent who was injured by your warrior will face him again, Lord Mithrion?" An unexpected voice came from the crowd, and the figure of Glorfindel emerged, awakening sounds of astonishment and admiration from the crowd, a very common occurrence whenever the admired killer of the Balrog was present.

Mithrion raised his eyebrows. The healer from Círdan's land was a noble elf, a descendant of the Teleri people. His father had been one of those who, at the beginning of everything, abandoned the march of his people, deciding later to live in Beleriand. Only after much suffering and indecision, he and his family sought shelter under the protection of the Lord of Ships. He was there just because Enel had married Annatilian, his only daughter, who had asked him fervently to accompany her husband to this important tournament.

"It is you who says it, my Lord," the healer replied coldly. "Should I be worried about it?"

Glorfindel crossed the field, standing beside his pupil.

"Only if you want the two of us to be the protagonists of the next duel watched by all here, and for a different reason than an official tournament."

Mithrion's face hardened and he almost took the affront to heart. In his eyes, Glorfindel saw that the healer did not seem to care whether or not he was dealing with an important figure.

"I see that it is not only our champions who are willing to take up weapons," the peaceful voice of Celeborn said, as he tried to break the building tension. He had been standing with the members of the Council, listening with the rest of those present to this antagonistic discourse between the two elf lords. "It seems to me that the long period of peace in which we have been living is not producing good fruit in our warriors' hearts."

Mithrion's eyes moved then from Glorfindel and stared at the Lord with the silver hair for quite a few moments. They then focused on the ground in front of him before returning to their starting point.

"I do not wish to defy you, Lord Glorfindel. If that was the impression I caused, I beg your pardon," he said in an undisguised forced tone, and the blond elf's jaw hardened, seeming to feel dissatisfied that the issue had been more aborted than resolved. Glorfindel then turned to Elrohir, who kept his eyes downcast and did not return his gaze even in that moment.

Elrohir had paled as soon as he saw Glorfindel, whose support for the bout he had no longer expected. Even so, it was a relief to feel his presence beside him after the foolish argument he'd had with his master. He was feeling mixed emotions, realizing that Glorfindel's expression was not of someone who is where he wants to be. Such discomfort was only worsened when he saw the blond elf draw his dagger, startling everyone.

Glorfindel looked at Mithrion with the weapon in hand, then he bowed slightly and opened a small tear in the leg of Elrohir's pants, enough to reveal the bandage beneath it.

Mithrion's facial features suffered a mild tremor, but it had been angry feelings that had awoken this reaction. He turned to Glorfindel with an air of disapproval, after his experienced gaze and healer's senses noted the seriousness of the injury he could see.

"Do you really think your warrior should duel? You know what the decision of the Council would be if he did not."

"With all due respect, Lord Mithrion," Glorfindel said in a tone that did not actually try to show much respect at all. "It is not me or you who should declare him able or unable to continue," he finished, looking then at Elladan. "Elrohir has his own healer."

This time Elladan felt his lips parting, and he had to suppress the unexpected feeling of surprise, especially when the corners of his master's lips arose in a subtle but reassuring smile. Glorfindel's eyes showed the seriousness of the statement he had just spoken. Elladan placed his hand over his heart again, his feeling of uncertainty slowly disappearing.

"So be it." Enel had made the statement. The elf himself also seemed annoyed with this endless stalemate. In his eyes, everyone should feel what he was feeling; if this boy wanted to become some kind of martyr, he would help him and with great pleasure.

After a few seconds, as everyone looked at one another in surprise, Enel's categorical phrase made everybody at the field finally move. Glorfindel took hold of Elrohir's arm and pulled him away to check a few last things. Enel did the same with his weapon master.

"Do not let him hit you in this leg of yours. That is something that bastard elf will attempt to do if he thinks he will not be seen. Always try to keep an arm's length from him, bend your body forward and protect your wound. Avoid direct and long confrontation with Enel's blade. If your sword gets locked against his, end it quickly, because it will make you keep your weight on your injured leg for too long to escape, and that bastard will just hit your supporting leg," he said, as he tugged at the buckles of his disciple's armor to ensure that everything fit correctly.

Elrohir just nodded, listening to the instructions with his eyes on the ground. Once the fire of his anger and dissatisfaction had been extinguished, he felt very guilty for what he had said and done; so much so that he could not even look at his mentor. It was Glorfindel who finally held his chin, forcing him to do it.

"Are you hearing me, you troublemaking creature?" he asked, and even the question coming out through his clenched teeth sounded to Elrohir's ears as if his mentor was screaming at full lungs. "If you do not follow each piece of advice I'm giving you, or you foolishly risk this neck of yours, I'll finish with you whatever Enel has begun, is that clear? Let the bastard win if you have to, but do not risk yourself, understand me? Do not risk yourself."

Elrohir held his breath as he thought about the possibility of letting Enel win, but since he once again had the blond elf's support, which he thought he'd lost, he did not dare to oppose him.

"Are you hearing me, Elrohir?"

He again heard his master's voice, and Glorfindel's gaze once again had that dark tone that the twin had only known in this Tournament.

"I'm sorry," he responded automatically.

"I do not want to hear your excuses for not listening to me. I want you to hear me, elfling."

"I'm listening to you, master. I... I'm sorry... For what I did before... for forcing you to be here..." Elrohir said, and his voice was overcome with emotion, even though he did not willingly want to demonstrate it so openly.

Glorfindel took a deep breath; he did not know which was worse: when this confused boy's nervousness and impatience was this intense, or when he let himself be completely involved in his regrets. Whatever it was, this was not an appropriate occasion for any one of those extreme feelings to appear. Elrohir had to concentrate, as he had been doing throughout the tournament, or he would make the coming bout even riskier than it already was. So Glorfindel swallowed his own emotions, and he grabbed the young elf by the shoulders and gave him a brief jolt.

"Listen and listen well to what I say, warrior," he said in a firm tone. "I'm here because I want to be. Because I'm your master and you are my responsibility. But I'm disappointed with you, really disappointed. And my disappointment will only lessen if you perform flawlessly in this match; make it an impeccable one. And by impeccable I mean a serious match, with no reproach, with no unnecessary risk, with no heroic acts. If you fight such a fight and lose it, I'll feel better than if you risk your irresponsible neck and, by luck or skill or both, come out the champion. Am I making myself clear?" After he'd completed his impassioned command, he could not interpret what Elrohir's bright eyes said. The fact was that he cared for him more than would be wise, so to avoid that uncomfortable sensation, he briefly shook him once more. "Is it clear enough for you, Elrohir? Or do you need me to explain my instructions better?"

The twin just shook his head, but his eyes twinkled.

"Give me your blessing, please, master." He remembered saying that same phrase, a formal request the disciple always had to ask his mentor at the beginning of each fight. However, it sounded different from the last times he'd said it, and Glorfindel felt it was not just moved by sincerity but by absolute necessity as well. It made a shiver go down his spine.

"May the blessings of the great warriors fall on you, elfling," he said, and his own choked voice was a surprise to them both. After that he just slapped lightly on the young elf's face, and before both were taken by unwanted emotions for a so critical moment, he put the helmet on the twin's head, helping him to adjust it. "Do not lower your guard. Protect yourself. And do not let that unfortunate one get off the ground."

* * *

_Do not let that unfortunate one get off the ground_.

Glorfindel's voice echoed in Elrohir' s mind as soon as the sound of his sword meeting Enel's weapon reached the twin's ears. But the meaning of what his blond mentor meant to say still took some time to make sense, as Elrohir was treated to more escapades of the lord elf. Enel did not give up his aerial game, trying several times to use it to unbalance his opponent, who could not count on the stability of his legs as before.

It took Elrohir a while to realize this, but when he did, he began to use a different defense tactic. When the situation presented itself, he raised his sword, moving it in a vertical direction and twisting it downward, forcing Enel to defend himself and stealing from him the opportunity to take his feet off the ground.

Sometimes the maneuver worked well, but at others, Enel's inevitable escapades put the twin in extreme danger and often lent the lord elf the opportunity to hit him, even if not as effectively as Enel desired. But Elrohir did not know the meaning of the word surrender and that fact was the bitter truth he made his opponent taste at each new assault.

For these and other reasons, it did not take long for both sides to begin to show the fatigue of hard combat. Elladan closely followed each of his twin's steps, measuring the growth of the red stain on Elrohir's bandage with concern. Only now it occurred to him the reason why Glorfindel had yielded to Mithrion's provocation and had made the rip in Elrohir's pants. In fact he had acted wisely, revealing what could be controlled by the ones who cared for the twin and killing the curiosity of others.

And as time went on, the concern about that spot of blood grew in the same proportion that it increased in width and darkness, especially when, in a sudden rush, Enel hit Elrohir in the face with the hilt of his sword so hard that the twin's helmet flew off. The young elf was thrown backward by the impact, knocking him down on the field, and Enel used the opportunity to move on him while he was still on the ground, as any warrior would have. He seemed eager to finish this bout as soon as possible. Elrohir had been a source of frustration for him for a very long time; for so long that he was practically out of his mind to see an end to it. However, before placing his sword tip on his rival's chest, an act that by itself would have given him the victory, the captain decided to ensure his win with a questionable movement; making it look as if he'd unintentionally kicked Elrohir's wounded leg just before he put an end to the bout.

To his misfortune, however, the pain of his unexpected aggression made Elrohir instinctively roll on the ground before Enel could position his sword. The captain tried to reach him, but surprisingly, he found himself faced by the young warrior already on one knee, his hand resting on his wounded leg, but his sword undeniably raised. Even with evident traces of pain on his face, Elrohir still did not seem as willing to give up as his opponent wished him to be.

Enel's eyes were transformed by the extreme anger that this latest misfortune had awakened in him, and that feeling only worsened when Elladan, seeing his opportunity to act, raised his hand before his brother got up to continue the bout, warning the Council, "Warrior hurt!"

The young healer's smart tactic stole the rest of Enel's patience and, recognizing that he had indeed lost a great opportunity, he angrily stuck his sword in the ground, receiving a look of displeasure from the leader of the Council and losing some points by committing the undisciplined act.

"Respect, Captain Enel Baradobel!" warned Balanidhren. Enel's previous maneuver against his opponent had not gone unnoticed by him. "One more unfair assault to your opponent and I will declare the fight over."

Elrohir did not hear the warning; he stood up and threw a reproachful look at his brother, walking discontentedly in his direction.

"Damn it, Dan... I lose points..." he complained, breathing hard in his fatigue. He threw himself into a chair; while his brother opened the tear their mentor had cut in his pants a little, and then removed the bandage, which was flooded with blood. Glorfindel held his disciple's head, as he checked the consequences of the blow from Enel's sword hilt.

"Your brother acted wisely elfling," Glorfindel reassured him, as he placed a damp cloth over the bruise that appeared on the young elf's left cheek. "By doing so, he offered us the opportunity to take care of your injuries, and also for you to rest and replenish your armor."

"Pausing like that ... makes me lose points," Elrohir repeated unhappily. His voice barely sounded due to his extreme exhaustion. He was quite annoyed with his brother for having paused the fight. He had never needed to have that advantage before. "Lord Enel is ahead of me... He... He hit me in risk areas five times, if I did not lose count..." he commented disgustedly, trying to catch his breath as he looked at the scarred helmet his master now held, waiting to help him put it on again. "Damn... That last blow... should have added more points to his score list... I will only be able to win if I disarm him..."

"He was disloyal to the rules," Elladan commented, as he concentrated on the bandage he quickly retied. Much of the suture had given way, and he could not redo it here. The right thing to do would be to ask for the end of the fight, but in the current circumstances he would not dare think of such a thing. He would have to ensure that the bandage was strong enough to contain the bleeding. "He hit you when you were already on the ground."

"It was not disloyalty," Elrohir said, defending his opponent as he tried to control his breathing. "What he did was not intentional."

"Of course it was not," Glorfindel said sarcastically, then cast a disapproving look toward Enel, who was sitting on the other side of the field, drinking some water and carefully monitoring what was happening with his opponent. "He just didn't _unintentionally_ step on you. The bastard took the rest of his opportunities to hit your wound very well."

Elrohir closed his eyes for a moment, but when he realized that if he kept them that way any longer, he would have difficulty reopening them, he forced himself to do it, only to find Glorfindel looking at him with extreme concern.

"You've lost a lot of blood. You are as pale as the moon."

Elrohir locked his teeth, trying to control the pain.

"Do not ask me..." He spit out the words, while he still had the energy for it.

Glorfindel was about to respond, but Balanidhren's voice caught his attention.

"The Council requests the presence of the official healer," he said, and Glorfindel rose with questioning eyes. "Your disciple is in much pain, Lord Glorfindel. It's the Council's right to find out if your healer is able to consistently judge the issue."

Mithrion stood up then, not hiding his displeasure.

"Protest! The official healer on duty today is Lord Elrond, the warrior's father."

"Another good reason for him to do so," Balanidhren countered. "If the protective instincts of a father do not prevail in a case like this, I do not know which strategies to use."

Mithrion pursed his lips, glancing suspiciously at the host. Elrond disguised the concern he was feeling in his characteristically patient countenance.

"I will open space for your opinion if you want to follow me, Lord Mithrion," he proposed.

"You had your opportunity to evaluate your firstborn's questionable work before your youngest found himself in the situation he is in now, Lord Elrond." Mithrion was very unsatisfied. "Why did you not take it when you could?"

Elrond met the sad eyes of his eldest son again before Elladan bowed his head and continued what he was doing. The healer could not tell if his anguish was from experiencing his efficient firstborn being required for the first time to doubt his abilities, or from the fact that he was in a weapons training camp, but those words from the other healer awakened in him an almost uncontrollable desire to draw his sword at once and be finished with all this sickening diplomacy.

And he would have done it, if he had not been Elrond Perendhel, lord of this land and very experienced. Yes, he would have drawn his sword if he had not already gone through worse trials than this, in which grabbing a sword was the only alternative, and if he hadn't had his sense of vision to carefully show him the various options he could make use of in a situation such as this one, on this early afternoon.

Therefore, Elrond went back to Mithrion and added, with a tone of caution and respect:

"You are also a father, are you not, my lord Mithrion? I assume that this is the reason why you traveled down here to support your dear son-in-law. Your daughter's heart now beats in the warrior's chest you came to protect."

Mithrion inhaled with the comment, then his gaze directed almost automatically to the figure of Enel beside him, and at that moment his greatest wish was to shake his arrogant and reckless son-in-law, to have placed him in a situation like this. He had always been a peaceful elf, a peaceful elf whose paths, it seemed, conflicts particularly enjoyed crossing. The biggest one had been the moment when his sweet daughter Annatilian decided to marry a fierce warrior like Enel.

Enel did not even bother to return his healer's gaze. He knew the weight of his faults, but he felt as if he was in an all or nothing situation. He had come so far, against exactly the worst opponent he could face. By Elbereth, had this boy not wronged him enough in the past? Why did it have to be him to win all the previous tests? Where were those great warriors who faced the boy? This disgraceful boy had fought the toughest opponents. How could he have gotten this far?

Those were Enel's thoughts, just before hearing the snort of dissatisfaction from his father-in-law, who stood up and accepted the host's proposal. Mithrion seemed extremely suspicious of the whole situation. Enel thought that his father-in-law probably agreed with his own opinion, and could not believe that so young an elf could be keeper of all those feats.

Mithrion allowed himself a few minutes to feel his own regrets and doubts, before returning his gaze to meet the host's. The truth was that he respected Elrond tremendously, and they had already exchanged valuable information. However he had not the slightest sympathy for this whole situation. He looked at the healer of Imladris as if he were greatly displeased, but finally nodded, even though he had been contradicted. Elrond bowed in thanks, before moving toward his sons.

* * *

I'd like to give thank to all friends who left a comment in the last chapter: **Falln4DarkAngel, sokkergurl, Emilyy, ,Lia Whyteleafe, Evereven, LalaithElerrina, Viresse, Glory Bee, Krissy001, Wtiger5, world-classgeek, and SilvanShemesh**. I also wanted to thanks **Gwedhiel0117, DreamingIn2Eternity** and **Pitybe** who read the first chapter and probably didn't have time to read the next. I hope you continue enjoying the story. More thanks to **luckyclover7, gymnalissa, Raving Rabbit, viridiianlights, Aria Breuer, oceanredwhite, and lackam** for including this story in your favorite list. Hope I can receive a line from you about it one day. And, of course, many, many thanks again to **Puxinette**, my kind and patient beta.


	4. THE OUTCOME

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters and sceneries belongs to JRR Tolkien._

* * *

**CHAPTER III – THE OUTCOME**

_Build me a son, O Lord, who will be strong enough to know when he is weak, and brave enough to face himself when he is afraid, one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat, and humble and gentle in victory._

**Douglas MacArthur**

* * *

Elrohir's eyes followed his father's decided steps, as he crossed the field in his direction. When he knelt before him, the twin paled and his whole body seemed to grow cold.

"Please,_ adar-nîn,_" he said, watching Elrond place his hands over the wound on his leg in absolute silence. Crouching beside him, Elladan attended his father's examination.

"I applied a little bit of _sagdatloira_ and tied the bandage over it; it may contain the bleeding for a while longer. I do not know for how long," he said, and Elrohir realized the seriousness of the wavering tone in his brother's voice, even with the loving look that Elladan received from Elrond as a response. He lamented putting his twin in this situation before their father, who Elladan respected tremendously.

After briefly checking the bandaged wound, the elf lord looked up to observe the swelling on his son's face. Elrohir took a deep breath under his father's scrutiny and hid all his pain in a perfect mask.

"I can continue, _adar_," he hastened to say, trying to disguise any trace of pain in his voice.

Elrond analyzed his son's face a while longer, then put his hand fondly on Elrohir's chest, which was covered by the red and silver armor, the color of the banner that Glorfindel had chosen to represent himself. Red was one of the hues that reminded him of Rivendell.

"You know how much I love you, don't you, my Captain?" His father's question almost led the younger twin to despair; he knew what was coming when the healer used that tone and when he called him that name. Elrohir swallowed his desire to beg his father to not do what he thought he was about to do, but finally ended up looking down at his tightly clasped hands.

"I know, sir," he replied. "For your love I'll be always grateful, my lord father," he completed, playing his role of a good son. He did not want to embarrass the Elf-lord before the healer of the Haven, who was watching the scene carefully.

Elrond smiled, then pulled his son's chin up to look at him and leaned his hand on his injured leg. At that moment, Elrohir realized that the formal speech of his father, that calculated attitude, actually was not as ceremonial as he had imagined. The certainty only came when he felt the pain in his leg considerably decrease, and he felt an important energy flowing between them.

This time Elrohir really had to look for one of his best masks so that his surprise at his father's attitude wasn't too visible. Elrond was the official healer. He was not called to attend his warrior son, but to judge his healer son. What he had done was not exactly what the rules directed. But Elrond didn't really seem too worried about it. He just kissed his son's face then and stood up.

Elladan followed him with his eyes, but did not dare to rise. He also spent all his concentration disguising his shock, which threatened to transform his facial features.

"Then, Lord Elrond?" inquired the judge of the bout.

"I see no impediment of extreme gravity," Elrond replied formally, and Mithrion's eyebrows rose in absolute indignation.

"What, by _Mandos_, do you have in mind?" he asked, already passing the healer of the city and going to check the wound of his son-in-law's opponent for himself. When Mithrion, without any request for permission, placed his hand over Elrohir's bandages, the younger elf had to breathe in slowly to try to keep himself from shoving him away.

However, when Mithrion realized that both the visible fatigue and the uncontrollable bleeding of the young elf seemed to have decreased more than expected, the elf of Lindon did not seem so inclined to disguise his surprise as the twins had. "What did you do to him, Elrond?" He straightened up, and, resembling a typhoon, he approached the host with a menacing scowl.

Elrohir paled when he saw his father stare at the elf with his face as calm as ever, and he wondered if he would witness him lying for the first time in his life.

"I played my role as a healer. For that I was called, Lord Mithrion."

"You made the boy better."

Elrond did not answer, but the next comment came from Balanidhren.

"By _Elbereth_, Mithrion. Elrond was with his son for a minimum time."

"But the boy is noticeably better." The healer pointed brazenly now to Elrohir. Balanidhren followed the direction indicated, but did not see in the picture of the young elf the same information.

"What I see is a warrior who is still quite wan. If the presence of his father has comforted him for a moment, I am pleased to know it, considering that this conflict that we have been watching seems too unequal to me."

"He was favored," protested the healer, not giving up.

"Very Well. Then place your hands over your warrior and do the same, or ask Elrond to treat him equally if you are feeling unable to offer your son-in-law the same positive energy that our host offered his son." The Green Forest counselor had finally gotten angry. He was chosen among the others just for being one of the most thoughtful and patient of the group. His exasperation only made it quite clear how this bout was surpassing acceptable limits.

After that comment there was only silence; a silence that Glorfindel took to crouch near his pupil and re-check his armor, while Elladan gave one last look at the injury on his brother's face.

"My father broke the rules," Elrohir whispered to his master. He was so surprised that the sound of the words coming out of his mouth made him seem, in the eyes of the blond warrior, as an elfling who had just seen a too convincing dragon illustration. Glorfindel let out a laugh.

"Yes, he did."

"He should not have..."

"Of course he should have," Elladan said in defense of his father.

"He should not have done this, Dan... He favored me," Elrohir repeated in a worried tone.

"Your brother is right, elfling," Glorfindel added, replacing the helmet on his pupil's head. "Your father just tried to rebalance the game. You should not be in this fight. And Enel, who, to me, is the truly favored one in this whole story, has not learned to value his luck and has only acted in a reprehensible way until now. The Council sees it. Being called as a healer in this matter was not your father's decision. Believe me."

"Even still, _ada_ could not do much for you, Ro," Elladan said, concerned. "Once the fight begins again, your leg will return to bothering you, and the bleeding might be intensified too, if he hits you. You need to take extra care."

"That's true, Elrohir." Glorfindel's tone had regained all its seriousness. "What your father did for you was just give you more of a chance to defend yourself. You were a very easy target, downed the way you were. Do not believe for a minute that he did as he did hoping to help you win. He just wants to avoid you getting hurt more severely. Now listen to me. Let the fight flow and only protect yourself. We just want it to be won by a stroke of luck, or excessive accumulation of points, but not anything worse."

Elrohir looked down, straightening his helmet now.

"Points are not lacking for him," he said in disgust.

"Even Celboril could win if he were fighting a wan warrior and using dirty tricks."

The image of Imladris' chef, whose only weapons were sharp kitchen knives, stole a small smile from the youngest twin, a smile that satisfied his blond master. Glorfindel could not wait to finish this nightmare.

"Come on, elfling. Observe the rules and continue behaving like you promised me."

However, when Elrohir exchanged the formal greeting with Enel, and their swords once again played their own song of battle, the twin began to realize how difficult it would be to fulfill the promise he had made to his master. The captain of Lindon returned to the fight with a spirit fueled by indignation and the desire to win the confrontation as quickly as possible.

Elrohir was simply trying to defend himself as his master had asked him to do. Yet at a certain time, Enel, dissatisfied with the young elf's change in tactics, since he was hardly giving way to his usual aggression, began to alter his attack maneuvers. He lifted his chin defiantly and started directing hostile glances of the worst kind toward his opponent

It was not characteristic of the younger twin to feel intimidated or yield to provocations, but he understood his rival's insinuations better than he wanted to. And he could read in Enel's facial expression the sentences that the warrior kept to himself, but which seemed to shoot from his eyes. How was that possible?

"_Come on, little boy. How long will you avoid me?"_

And Enel's sword passed inches from the twin's face.

Elrohir shook his head briefly and took a deep breath at the first opportunity he had to move away from the conflict a bit. But Enel's eyes still spoke plainly, and his phrases continued to echo in the young elf's mind, while a slight smile, loaded with sarcasm, was etched on the lips of the captain of the Haven.

"_They were complaining about my evasive maneuvers. But that's something this novice cannot even do_," said the tormentor's voice inside Elrohir's mind; Enel's voice…

The twin was thinking that this was not possible, that maybe the pain or perhaps a fever was making him hear these words. But Enel's intense expression did not make it look as if this tactic was taking a single minute of his attention, and Elrohir started to fear that Enel hid a power of war that until now he had not used against any opponent in this tournament.

Could such a maneuver work against him, who, according to his father, had one of the best locked minds he'd ever encountered?

Elrohir tried to ignore that fear and use the energy he had for reacting to Enel's continuous onslaught, sometimes mounting a counterattack, forcing a change of direction in the fight. But Elladan had been right; what his father had done for him was too little to turn him into the warrior he had been before he'd taken this latest injury. So every time he tried a more decisive attack, he ended up being hit or nearly so. He was powerless. Sometimes Enel's sword echoed on his armor, sometimes it stole strands of his hair, sometimes Elrohir tasted the heavier impact of its blade on his shoulder or back as he dodged to escape from a serious blow.

"_Come on, little boy, at least pretend to be a true warrior and learn to defend yourself_."

That damn voice came back to disturb Elrohir ... to haunt him.

And that sword hit his armor once more.

"_You will find your defeat here in front of your family, little boy. I pity you. So many important and noble elves in your ancestors' tree, and some of them are here as witnesses to the last of their line fleeing, fighting like a scared puppy. Not having your family as part of the Council has been a great help for you."_

Elrohir winced for the first time, and it was a mixture of anguish and anger that caused such a reaction, which he was trying to hide the best that he could. But harder than hearing those half-truths was ignoring what his pride was also screaming at him; words that were far worse than the ones his opponent's voice insinuated into his mind. He tried to pretend not to understand the subtext, sought not to comprehend the stares, did not believe what was happening. His weariness was bringing him down, the bandage on his leg dampened with blood again, the pain began to make more sense than fighting; the provocations had bitter tastes. The time now went on oddly, as in a quite bad dream from which he wanted to awaken.

When Enel jumped at an unexpected moment, only to land behind the twin and hit him with the handle of his sword in the middle of the back, Elrohir was not quick enough to turn around in time to prevent himself from being hit. And the assault took him to the ground so quickly, he barely had time to lift his right hand to break his fall. Enel moved his sword then, taking the opportunity to bring it closer to the young elf's neck and gain his ultimate point.

But Elrohir turned toward the ground, unable to surrender as ever, but his sword was still up, and it collided with Enel's. The older elf, seeing one more lost opportunity, simply could not accept that the attack had not been successful and took two steps away so that his opponent could stand up as the rules directed. But he was insistent in the resulting duel of weapons, forcing his sword against the twin's, who now used both hands in his bid to protect himself.

"_Do you really think you can defeat me, little sword thief_?" Enel's voice seemed to escape from his fiery glare, which he directed at his fallen adversary. "_Do you think I cannot beat you? Do you want me to tell you how many enemies I tortured this way, before I saw their blood staining my sword?" _

Elrohir opened rounded eyes to the threat that only he could hear, but his hands were still holding the sword as hard as they could, not giving an inch to the pressure.

"Fault! Serious fault, Lord Enel Baradobel!" Balanidhren, the judge of this last contest, finally said, realizing that the warrior did not intend to withdraw the prohibited assault.

Yet the captain of Círdan's city, stuck in his anger, did not answer, continuing to try to show the miserable elf that his strength was superior. He was so far away from sane reason, he could not see that, if Elrohir indeed gave up, he would be struck by the deadly weapon of his opponent.

"Fault, Captain!" Balanidhren repeated in a grave voice. "Move away!"

"Enel!" The voice of Mithrion was necessary for the first time. He also seemed quite worried. "Enel! Enel stop! If the boy gives way you will kill him!"

And it was that final warning from his father-in-law that seemed to bring some sense back to the distressed captain's heart. Enel held his breath, as if visualizing the risks and losses of doing as Mithrion directed, and his eyes bored into Elrohir's again before he moved away in an impulse of pure anger. Before doing so, however, the captain elf kicked his opponent while he was still on the ground.

"I will meet you in a real war, disgraceful little boy. There you will not have as many adults to defend you." He had not meant to verbalize, finally, what was in his heart and what seemed to consume his remaining dignity. _Elbereth_, this boy could set him off worse than any enemy had ever succeeded doing in his past. That needed to have an end. That needed to be finished.

"To me; that's enough!" Balanidhren exploded with indignation. When he examined his extensive experience and shrewdness, he acknowledged that some extreme negative energy had already painted traces of blackness in this bout for far too long. He did not know what it was, but he would put any price on his instincts, even if he lost the respect and regard of his colleagues. "I want to convene the Council and put an end to this bout now, or I will do it without their consent regardless."

"Of course! Protect this miserable one," Enel said, indignantly dropping his arms to his sides, as he realized that the last chance for victory had escaped him. "If you get the chance, why do you not try and enlist his mother to fight against him tomorrow?"

That was the last straw for Elrohir. He stood up then, ignoring aches and rules, doubts and fears, and threw himself onto Enel as if he were an uncontrolled beast. If it was a fight in the darkness that the captain wanted, he would show him what he was capable of. He'd known emptiness and darkness when he was still a boy; he'd crossed them aimlessly in a stormy sea and had not been rescued from drowning, only to now cast his head down and accept defeat without a fight, without giving it his all, without showing himself worthy of the help he had received in the past.

Enel's eyes widened in surprise, and even the council members left their seats afraid of having to stop something that seemed to be going from bad to worse.

The swords crossed, turned, clashed many times. Enel was also out of control, so out of control that he gave up his mental and verbal taunts, which were not unusual tactics for swordsmen in war. Actually the field had never been shrouded in such a silence during a bout, and never had the collision of two weapons become a more frightening sound.

Glorfindel's hand had held strongly onto Elladan's right arm, yet the blond warrior had his other hand gripping the handle of his sword. He had seen many conflicts in his life, but had never witnessed a fight like this, which had aroused such feelings of antagonism and confusion between the combatants.

"He's bleeding badly, Glorfindel. I have to stop the fight." Elladan tried to free himself. His elder brother's heart was too preoccupied to realize the real reason that the heat was stolen from his skin. "Let's allow Enel the win; I do not care about that anymore."

"The fight is about to end now, Elladan. It would be better for us all if we do not interfere." The blond warrior's angst interpreted this part of battle he knew so well. In his master's heart he just hoped Enel won the bout honestly, stealing Elrohir's sword as he almost succeeded in doing twice, or maybe knocking him down and immobilizing him with the weapon aimed to one mortal point, like most conflicts were finalized.

_Elbereth_ he just wanted this nightmare to end.

That was what everyone expected now, some even longed for it, even those among the perplexed audience. All believed now that Enel would win this conflict; however, it would be Elrohir's perseverance those elves would certainly never forget.

That was certain, and the captain's victory was expected now, the victory of Lord Enel Baradobel, a famous and fearless Teleri elf, who had been in and fought in the toughest battles; who for the first time had participated in an Official Tournament; who for the first time had traveled from his lands; who for the first time had faced an opponent as full of surprises as Elrohir of Imladris.

When in the heat of battle, Enel's cunning finally managed to make Elrohir's sword escape from his hands, the captain almost did not believe it, so he kept watching the weapon on its route to the ground and had little time to realize and believe that this had finally happened, before Elrohir threw his body forward, rolling on the ground and swiping his sword from the air before it touched the soil of his homeland.

Not believing he had missed this last opportunity, the captain again advanced on the fallen elf, repeating the risky maneuver for which he had been previously warned and punished, but obviously not caring that he was about to repeat it. He was in this for all or nothing, and he wanted no other reward than beating this boy that had stolen his pride. He would face the punishment later; he would face the people who would avoid him then; he could return dishonored to his land, but he would not accept defeat, he would not give up at any price.

When his sword met that of his opponent, who was still stretched on the ground, Elrohir unexpectedly turned his weapon, and then it was the captain's bright blade that escaped from its owner's hand and went skyward. The elf lord tried to move and catch it, as Elrohir had done before, but then he realized there was an impediment to that: Elrohir held his sword over his opponent's shoulder, inches from his throat.

It was something that in this tournament was titled _Unquestionable Coup_.

It was something that in this tournament was titled _Victory_.

When Balanidhren exclaimed, "Finished! Victory to Lord Elrohir of Imladris," as more of an outburst of someone who is relived than in the tone of one making a final decree, no one could tell if the powerful and respected Enel Baradobel could accept his defeat or not; especially when the field was overrun with elves that, along with the warriors in the bout tonight, seemed a bit tired of so many rules.

The judge of the dispute tried to protest the crowd's breach of tournament etiquette, but finally a relieved smile lifted his lips. As an inhabitant of The Green Forest, the elf had his Sinda heart accustomed to big celebrations, a custom he learned with the emotional Silvan Elves, whose hearts yearned to give thanks for everything. Celebrations gave him pleasure. So he allowed Elrohir to be warmly greeted by friends and embraced by his master, his father, his brother and his grandfather, as well as be kissed and cuddled by his mother and grandmother. He was the hero of this tournament, the young elf who had come to conquer. He was the picture of unbelievable strength.

Elrohir was the symbol of the land he defended and represented; he was the symbol of Imladris, of his homeland...

When Glorfindel entered the twins' bedroom, after the crowd had dispersed and the Council was able to return to their meeting room, he was surprised to see the place empty. It had taken him some time to convince the elves who had been in the audience that the celebrations should take place only after the official end of the Tournament. It seemed as if people were so satisfied with what they had seen during this last bout that they had no need for an additional opportunity to enjoy another battle, especially if it would mean that they could celebrate right this moment. It had been necessary to remind them who would be in the next fight to bring them back on track. Some elves even took pity on Elrohir, asking the leader of the Council if the battle would really be within the next day, as the rules dictated.

Glorfindel hadn't exactly seen the moment when Elladan and Elrohir had walked back to the house as the rules said they should. The brothers knew that for them the tournament was not over yet, and that hurt Glorfindel's heart, who knew that they would be deprived of all the excitement that would surely inspire songs and conversations during the hours they would have to be in seclusion.

He then observed the room; the twin's armor was on the floor, as were his stained clothes. The bandage flooded with blood was in a bin. Glorfindel raised his eyes to the brothers' bathing room then, thinking that surely they would be in there.

"Elladan?" he called to make sure.

"Glorfindel! Can you help me?" Elladan called, in a response so low and worried that it spurred his master to go forward quickly. Inside he found Elladan kneeling beside the tub, with Elrohir in the water, but his head resting on his brother's chest.

"What happened?"

"He is all but lifeless," Elladan explained, and then Glorfindel understood, realizing that Elrohir's eyes were still open, but he seemed completely depleted in his brother's arms. "I had already redone the suture, but I needed to bathe him," Elladan explained, worried, craning his neck a bit to try to see his brother. "He stopped answering me. Is he asleep?"

"No." Glorfindel smiled complacently, recognizing his pupil's lost look. Elrohir seemed to be wandering through images of everything that happened, since he was incapable of any more effective reaction. "Has he said anything about the bout?"

Elladan took a deep breath, and then moved his eyes to his mentor and Glorfindel understood the nonverbal request. He just nodded in silence, thinking that the caution with which the older twin wanted to deal with what happened was welcome and wise for the moment. The master then took off his robe and shirt and began to help Elladan to finish his task.

They exchanged places carefully and Glorfindel was holding Elrohir while Elladan finished his work. It was only when Glorfindel lowered his pupil's head slightly so that his brother could wash his hair, that the eyes of the youngest twin met his mentor's. The blonde elf smiled.

"Soon you'll be in your bed, enjoying the sleep of the honest ones," he said in a jesting tone. "Today I think you will not refuse to lay your hard head on the pillow, will you?"

Elrohir blinked a few times, while his mentor protected his eyes as his brother lathered his hair.

"When will I fight again?" Elrohir asked then, and for once he did not seem anxious for the true response. "In the morning?"

"Do you think you'll be standing in the morning?" Glorfindel tried to continue using the informal and playful tone he had been using, even realizing that an unexpected and intriguing sadness had taken the young champion, a sadness he had never seen the twin show until that day. Elrohir just closed his eyes and his lips trembled as if he were in total mourning, but soon he pressed them tightly together, closing his eyes.

Glorfindel sighed and even exchanged a worried look with the older twin before replying:

"No," he said in a low tone, while helping Elladan, who slowly poured some water over the twin's dark hair to remove the foam from it. Glorfindel wanted to ensure that Elrohir understood that this casual act was a guarantee of affection, because he knew it was something that his disciple deserved, after all the proof of bravery and dedication he had shown that day and the days which had come before. Elladan also used caution in what he did, trying to give his brother a sense of security now that the fighting was over and he was visibly frail.

"When?" Elrohir asked then, his eyes locked on the ceiling above and his breathing a bit faster again.

"Within the week," Glorfindel replied, still casually passing his fingers through Elrohir's hair to help rinse the soap away.

Surprised, Elladan stopped what he was doing, but Elrohir did not move; he just closed his eyes again, as if he had heard enough.

"Really?" It was the older twin who seemed to not believe what he'd heard.

"Yes, Elladan."

"But ... I do not understand ... Don't the rules say that there cannot be such breaks? That the warrior has to face the challenges, regardless of how prepared he is?"

"Rules are for the organization, for the respect, Elladan. We try to follow them, but rather than fulfilling them all without question, we should stick to the first and most important of them."

The older twin blinked a few times, but now Elrohir's weakened voice came to reply.

"Respect the warrior and the fair fight."

Glorfindel lifted the corners of his lips in a tired smile.

"Yes," he said, holding his pupil a bit more securely. "Respect the warrior ... so there will be a fair fight," he said, offering his interpretation, the one he used when he asked the Council to postpone the ultimate bout. In fact no one really wished to do the contrary. "The Council has agreed to take this time for Elrohir to have an equal chance when he faces his new opponent."

Elladan sighed sadly, now looking at his brother, who finally closed his eyes, his head resting on his master's chest.

"Less harm..." Elladan said with an air of someone who looked tired of many things, of someone who really wanted see this exhausting day finished, but he still seemed too preoccupied with Elrohir. "Can you help me put him to bed? I am not sure he will actually sleep on his own despite the way he seems..."

Glorfindel looked at the older twin for a few moments before answering.

"Neither he nor you, would you not say? That was quite a fight for both of you," he said then with a resigned smile.

Elladan looked down, but then pursed his lips. His master always read Elrohir and him better than many who knew them for some time. He looked once more at his brother, who finally seemed asleep.

"I wish it was all finished..." Elladan said. "I... did not want to see him brandishing his sword for a while... not unless he had some more serious reason..."

Glorfindel inhaled deeply with that concern.

"You know you will see him doing this more often than you would like to in the coming years."

Elladan also sighed deeply, only for a different reason than his mentor.

"Facing enemies," he said. "I hope so ... And not... not the way it happened today."

The strange subtext of the young healer's comment made Glorfindel squint little.

"Enel crossed the line," he said, making the older twin press his lips together. Glorfindel saw disillusionment in his pupil's eyes he did not remember seeing before. "He crossed the line and will be punished, Elladan. But he's still an elf, one of our allies."

The twin exhaled, but instead of answering, he just stood up, catching the big white towel that was folded over a wooden ark. Glorfindel followed his movements with curiosity. The silence of either one of these brothers was never caused by anything pleasant.

"Tell me what is in your heart, elfling."

"Nothing. I just do not like competitions. But that is nothing new," the twin said, trying to evade admitting more. He opened the towel in his hands and waited for the aid Glorfindel had offered him; removing Elrohir from the tub and helping to prepare him for his rest.

But Glorfindel did not move, still looking at his pupil with attention.

"What happened today will not happen again in the final bout, Elladan. If there must be some provocation or trial in contention against the _Alcarinqua_, it will come down just on the person chosen to fight. Just that. You can be sure that whoever is chosen _Alcarinqua_ for the ultimate duel will be a warrior who will treat your brother with dignity and respect, something that Enel, unfortunately, even with all the wonderful experience his past glories afforded him, does not know how to do."

Elladan twisted his lips and Glorfindel was surprised to realize that the young elf did not seem satisfied with the guarantees he'd received. When he went to ask him why, he was surprised to hear Elr, ohir's even weaker voice, as if he were speaking from one of his own dreams.

"It will be you ..." the younger twin said with eyes still closed. His tone was almost inaudible, and Glorfindel frowned, trying to understand better. "It will be you who I will have to face..."

Glorfindel had a moment of hesitation; only now did he understand the reason for the strange and unexpected sadness he had found in this room. It was hard to realize that all that pain was not only caused by the difficulties that the brothers had lived through today, but also because of the future, the uncertainty of which seemed to weigh on them more than it should.

"Whoever it is, elfling," he said, leaning close to the already sleeping twin's ear. "It will be someone who wants you well and will give you a fair and worthy fight, which is something that arrogant elf from the dock does not even know about."

* * *

I'd like to give thank to all friends who left a comment in the last chapter**: sokkergurl, DreamingIn2Eternity, Gwedhiel0117, ****SilvanShemesh, ****world-classgeek, ****Lia Whyteleafe, Oleanne, Certh, ****Krissy001, ****LalaithElerrina, ****Evereven and Glory Bee.**

Many, many thanks again to **Puxinette**, my wonderful friend and patient beta.


	5. THE OPPONENT

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters and sceneries belongs to JRR Tolkien.

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_**CHAPTER IV - THE OPPONENT**_

_Oppose: give help with obstructions and objections._

Ambrose Bierce

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Elrohir spent that week in seclusion and rest, and as Glorfindel had recommended, he hardly got out of bed, trying to rest as much as he could. His master did not even visit anymore. Their meeting after his victory over the Lord elf from the Haven had been the last.

"Get out of that window and go right back to bed, elfling!" He heard a familiar voice at his door and turned, surprised, almost without believing who he saw.

"_Nana_." His smile widened and his mother gave a pleasant laugh when her youngest hugged her, lifting her in the air. "What are you doing here? I cannot receive visitors."

"To blazes with these silly rules," Celebrian said in jest, placing her hand on her son's face, which held that wonderful smile that, to her eyes, was unique to only him and his brother. She sighed then. "At the end of the tournament you may receive a visit from just one person who is indicated by the Council, and they will explain to you the rules of the last bout," she said, continuing to stroke her son's face, running her fingers lightly over the bruises that were still fading, the cuts that were almost healed. "It's part of the rules. Obviously I am not the best person for this, but I used a little _pressure_ and the Council allowed me to do it."

Elrohir laughed even more, wondering what his mother's_ pressure_ might have been, as many in the Council were relatives or friends of the couple who were Imladris' leaders.

"You have not put them in an uncomfortable situation, have you, _nana_?" Elladan was the one to tease, taking his mother into his arms as soon she left his brother's embrace.

"Or put _us_ in one?" Elrohir provoked a bit more, sitting on his bed while Elladan sat on his own, and their mother perched on one of her eldest son's legs, smoothing Elladan's hair distractedly.

"Me? Well... what do you mean by an _uncomfortable_ situation?" she asked, continuing her banter, and both brothers looked at each other, but then they started to laugh, thinking that perhaps it was not bad at all not knowing which arguments their mother had used to convince the council she would be the most appropriate presence for the last formality prior to the final duel.

"Never mind," they said in unison.

"Yes, yes, on second thought I do not even want to know," Elrohir added, stifling a laugh.

Celebrian continued smiling, after having looked carefully at her youngest son.

"How are you, dear?"

"Well, I'm pretty much recovered. You can ask my healer," Elrohir replied, thinking that his mother was playing her role in the tournament rules, even with the unnecessary addition of the word _dear_ at the end of her question, combined with the family atmosphere which filled the bedroom.

Celebrian laughed then, looking at her eldest son and lifting her chin.

"So, noble healer? What about your warrior?" She accepted being in the game just for fun.

Elladan took a deep breath, trying not to laugh.

"He has been a good patient all these days, something that, by the way, I do not expect will happen again in the next thousand years, for sure," he completed, receiving from his brother, who was seated in front of him, one sharp kick in the shin. "Ouch," he complained, throwing a warning glance at his twin. "Actually, I'm the one about to go insane in this room, my lady. It would be better if my patient was actually in bed, and I could fill him with sedatives and have some peace."

Elrohir laughed then and his brother joined in. Celebrian allowed herself to continue watching her sons, then she let out a sigh of relief. She had been worried about them for too long and would have actually sent all those rules into oblivion, if the Council had not allowed her visit. She then remembered that, unfortunately, she was not here just as a mother.

"Do I really need to tell you what will happen tomorrow, as is my role, Elrohir?" she asked. "Do I need to explain the rules, talk about the purpose of the test?"

Elrohir looked down then, and his smile faded.

"Only if something has changed in the manual and in the books I read," he answered, and his somewhat bitter response worried his mother.

"Why do you not seem as happy as you should be, _Rohir-nín_?" she asked. "You fought so hard to be here; people all over town have not stopped talking about you. Your father even received a bird coming from the Haven carrying a message from Lord Círdan, congratulating him for his champion son. He even said he had no doubt it would be a tough tournament, so he had sent his best elf."

The mere mention of the opponent he'd faced blanched the twin's face and stole the remnants of joy from Elladan also. Celebrian looked at her sons alternately.

"Lord Enel has already returned to his land," she informed them. "He was severely reprimanded by the Council and Lord Eilafion told us a far more severe punishment awaits him in the port city."

Elrohir pressed his lips together, not looking pleased with the information.

"War makes people strange beings." The comment came from Elladan. He also did not seem satisfied with what he had heard. "I can only feel sorry for Lord Enel; he had a name to defend."

"Well, now he has a name to recover. I am not sorry for him." Celebrian was tougher on Enel than her sons had been. Elladan and Elrohir both looked puzzled, before turning to their mother. The blond elf-lady, however, did not seem willing to speak about the many whys that made her turn her back on that elf, even before he had come through the gates of Rivendell. Unlike her husband, she had never been the most tolerant or understanding in things concerning pride and similar feelings, which sometimes could move even the best warriors in very odd ways. For her, history, including the one of her own family, had enough examples of these cases for her to have a concrete opinion on the subject.

"Do you really think Lord Círdan will punish him with extreme rigor, _nana_?" Elrohir asked hesitantly.

Celebrian looked at her son with surprise, and her expression held, like she might be waiting for him to add something that could help her understand his question better. Then, in the absence of his clarification, she clicked her tongue and shrugged, equally reluctant to explain herself.

"It is what is expected of a favored leader in a friendly land, acting in an official capacity in the name of their people."

Elrohir looked down and Celebrian gazed at him with even more disbelief.

"What's the matter, _ion-nîn_? Do you think that his war tactics were fair? Enel himself admitted, after being questioned about some points of irregularity in his performance, that he came to use some mental torture on you; a gift so rare that its use is strictly prohibited, even in the toughest battle drills. It was more than evident that, despite being a warrior of the most powerful we've seen, the spirit of the tournament was not in that elf's heart."

Elrohir kept his eyes fixed on his entwined fingers, and Celebrian sensed a feeling of sadness in the room that simply did not fit the situation. She stared for a long while at her son, an approach she learned from her husband that was infallible, when there was absolute necessity of prying something out of their youngest son's heart.

"It was not his fault. He hated me for what I did... for such a long time... I had dishonored him in the past and now he returns home disgraced again because of me."

Celebrian felt her jaw drop with Elrohir's statement and took a good moment before she was able to verbalize what such words had awakened in her.

"You had no responsibility for it in the past and much less now, Elrohir," she said indignantly. "I cannot believe you are feeling guilty. You, _ion-nîn_, whose heart has always been the most righteous, regardless of who you were facing?"

Elrohir shook his head and Celebrian noticed that her son was not even willing to pretend a defense for himself.

"Tell me you are not feeling responsible for what happened, Elrohir," she said. "Come on, tell me what you are feeling, dear."

Elrohir shrugged.

"Oh, my..." she then turned to her eldest son, who pretended to be distracted, now running his fingers through the waves of his mother's hair. _"El-nîn?" _

"Don't look at me... I've been in the same discussion with him for days," Elladan answered immediately, looking at his brother.

Celebrian was surprised, dropping her arms in dissatisfaction.

"But, by _Manwe_ and all his wisdom, why? Why, _Rohir-nín_?"

Elrohir did not respond, he just moved his eyes to the window.

"Oh, these silences of yours," the lady-elf complained. "Do not give me these silences or I'll leave before my time is up."

Elrohir took a deep breath, lowering unwilling eyes, but when his mother pretended disappointment, threatening to leave Elladan's arms, he said, still displeased:

"I'm sorry for deciding to be part of this tournament."

Celebrian looked at him quizzically.

"Are you sorry for being part of something you wanted so much, because of what happened to Lord Enel?" she asked surprised, and this time Elrohir shook his head more violently, looking as if he, at last, had brought out into the open what was distressing him.

"For everything, _nana_. Since the beginning all I heard was: _No, Elrohir! It's early for you, Elrohir! You're too young, Elrohir! _Not even Glorfindel wanted me in the competition. He brought it to Imladris because he wanted to give us the opportunity to watch it. But I could not do as he asked. Me and my enormous pride; I could not just watch; I had to participate."

"You won! You proved to everyone that you were right."

"I also crossed a continent when I was a boy. I handled a sharp weapon that did not belong to me and..." He stood up then, walking in anguish across the room. "And I killed someone... for the first time... I did not even know him... All of that because people had judged me incapable... I'm always hurting someone because I want to prove that I can do something, because I'm seeking some kind of approval... Some kind of... I know not what. And pity the poor people who would be the ones in my way, as Lord Enel twice has been."

Shocked, Celebrian parted her lips. Not since that difficult time in his childhood had the young elf ever mentioned these facts again. She rose slowly, very worried now.

"_Rohir-nín_..."

"It will not end well... I know it will not." Elrohir shook his head sadly, standing in front of the window. "It will not end well... I just hope that the only one harmed this time is me... and nobody else."

Celebrian approached him then and she carefully placed her hand on her son's arm.

"What is not going to end well, _Rohir-nîn_? What are you talking about?"

Elrohir fell silent, breathing in deeply and Celebrian realized that he was trying not to weep now. It broke her heart. She then turned to her firstborn, who did not even dare to approach, continuing to stay where he was seated. Elladan, however, did not seem surprised by the story he heard; upon receiving his mother's gaze, he just nodded, equally unhappy.

Before this impasse, Celebrian drew closer to her youngest, wrapping him in her arms. Elrohir tried to shrink away, as he always did when he was nervous, but eventually just stood there, unable to take his anger to a point that he would regret again. His body, however, was as rigid as a wall.

"There is something more, isn't there, my dear? I'll have to leave here soon. If you do not tell me what is in your heart right now, I will be forced to take this question with me. Is that what you want for your mother?"

Elrohir closed his eyes and shuddered, but said nothing. Celebrian gave him a little more time, but reluctantly released him, also saddened. She was walking toward the door when she heard her son's voice.

"Glorfindel is not here..." he said.

She turned then, a confused expression now on her face.

"And what does that matter, dear?"

"He was supposed to be here... with me... He has to be here... He is my mentor."

"Do you think he's not here because he's angry or something?" she asked blankly, and when the twin threw his head sideways again in his most common sign of impatience, she added: "He is not here because he cannot be. You know that."

"There was nothing in the manual about it. He is my mentor. He has stayed with me the entire time. We haven't even discussed the last fight. When he was in our room after the final bout, I was numb because of all the herbs I'd been given. We couldn't really talk, and he never came back..."

Celebrian's eyes analyzed the sad face of her son, before saying, "You know the reason for his absence, _Rohir-nîn_. He is part of the _Alcarinqua_. And they were all in seclusion like you and your brother have been during this week. It is part of the rules of the Tournament. They had an important decision to make."

"But he is my mentor... He can't occupy two roles simultaneously."

"He can... He is an _Alcarinquallo_ before being your mentor. His first obligation is to his group."

Elrohir gave a slight snort, but then winced and closed his eyes for a moment. When he reopened them, he leaned on the window sill, staring again at the landscape he saw, but his chest was heaving, as someone being chased by an idea that did not please him.

"Oh, _ion-nîn_," Celebrian said, approaching cautiously this time. She had seldom seen her son look more distressed. "What else is going on in your heart? What other sad thoughts, beyond those you have revealed to me, are you allowing to take root within you? Because I cannot believe that it is only because your master is not here to be by your side," she completed, and when the young elf just shook his head in silence, she added," Come on, Elrohir, your mother is not a guesser. Do not torture me like this."

"Is it him? I know it is..." Elrohir said finally, as if he were forced to spit words he did not want to say.

"What, dear? What about him?"

The twin tilted his head to one side and his mother then realized that he was really angry.

"What about Glorfindel, Elrohir? Come on, tell me so I can understand."

"It is he who is the opponent I will face tomorrow," he said, still staring at the picture outside, of the day in the valley from which he was separated. "That's why he is not here. I'm not a fool. He should be performing the role you came to do today,"

Celebrian set her jaw.

"After all that has happened, is it still so important who you will face tomorrow, _Rohir-nîn_?"

Elrohir clicked his tongue, unhappy. "Of course it is..."

"Why? Of anything you could have predicted about this tournament, what will happen tomorrow should have been the most obvious to you. You know the rules well. You knew this day would come. You knew that if you won, you would have to face an improbable opponent. You understood how the event worked."

Elrohir lowered his head, rubbing his face with both hands.

"You knew it, _ion-nîn."_

"I know!" Elrohir exploded, and Celebrian felt as if it was that truth that hurt him most.

He stopped for a minute, breathing deeply to try to calm himself. "I knew it, but I did not expect it to make me feel this way," he added in a quieter voice. "I did not expect it to be like this... Maybe I deserve it... but I did not want... I did not want it this way…"

"_Rohir-nín_..." Celebrian touched his arm fondly, moved by her son's tone. Then she slowly embraced him again; this time the young elf gave in to the affection given, letting his mother hug him and laying his head on her shoulder.

"We had hard times in this competition," he said. "Glorfindel and I had heavy arguments… But we always could talk and solve the problems… We didn't have a chance to do that this time."

"It won't matter tomorrow, Elrohir. You will see."

"It will, _nana_," he admitted. "How could I have anyone else there? He's always been with me… I… I do not want to be there without him... I... I do not know if I can... if I can be there against him..."

Celebrian listened to her son's outburst, her eyes bright with tears, and even after Elrohir finished, she continued hugging him, patting his back slowly, without saying anything. This time it was Elrohir's turn to feel intrigued with his mother's lack of response, thinking that her silence was only confirming his suspicions. He then sought her gaze and held it, as if waiting for those bluish orbs alone to give him the answer, an answer which he did not know whether he actually desired to have.

But the beautiful lady-elf just offered him her usual smile, then caressed his face slowly.

"Do not think the worst, my dear one. Not everything has the meaning that we assign," she said then.

Elrohir shook his head again.

"For me certain meanings are too clear," he said disgustedly, pulling away from his mother and then returning to sit in the place he had just vacated. Now that he had clarified his own fears, he had finally become completely aware of his problem, an unavoidable problem whose only solution would be facing it head on, and he felt reluctant to do it, to see the truth. "It is my punishment... I know it is," he concluded, dropping his head forward.

Celebrian just watched her son, sitting on his bed with his attention caught by his own hands again, as was his custom when he realized that he was in an unpleasant situation from which there was no running away. She even exchanged a quick glance with her quiet firstborn, whose response was just a subtle frown. She then addressed her youngest again.

"I think my instructions about tomorrow's test are not as expendable as I judged they were," she said then. "I think I need to remind you of why it will happen; I should speak about the challenges of the warrior who's going to be tested, the importance of the sensible choosing of the opponent, why the group is composed of people who are important for almost all warriors participating in the Tournament."

"I think I can dismiss such talk." Elrohir tightened his lips and Celebrian recognized his change of tone. That was a main characteristic of the confused younger twin, to go from aggression toward himself to aggression toward others, just because he could not understand or accept the situation he was in.

"But you seem to have forgotten it. There weren't only our friends and relatives in the Council, Elrohir," Celebrian recalled. "Each of the participants, each of the opponents you faced, had among _the_ _Alcarinqua_ someone for whom his heart has absolute affection and respect. Each one of those elves had in the Council of Glorious someone he would have given everything in his life to not have to face."

"I know, _nana_..." Elrohir said in a tired tone.

"And each one, were they in your place, would be sitting in his chambers having exactly the same feelings you are having, _elfling_."

The twin made a small sound of disdain with that comment and Celebrian was intrigued.

"You think not? Do you think the almighty Lord Enel Baradobel, whom you foolishly defend, would be feeling well in your situation?" she asked her son. Then, before the darkened gaze she received, she added: "Lord Eilafion is among _The Alcarinqua_. Do you think Enel Baradobel would appreciate facing the chief captain of Ports, beside whom he fought the toughest battles? Do you think that Enel would have the courage to use the heinous and cowardly tactics he used against you, Elrohir, against the elf who saved his life several times and to whom he owes much, including the position he is in? Think about it. The good and righteous Lord Eilafion is among the opponents his second captain would have faced. Would he have done so with pleasure?"

Elrohir fell silent then and his face hardened as if he had received a great blow. Celebrian waited, afraid of what her words had planted in her son's heart. Talking to Elrohir had always been a problem in some circumstances, because the young elf often read between the lines of what he heard, hidden meanings that were not always there.

"So it's always a punishment..." he said. "No matter who the winner is. The prize for the champion is to be punished."

"Oh!" Celebrian sat now in a nearby chair, and even Elladan let out a barely contained sound of disapproval.

Elrohir exhaled loudly, and then took a deep breath. He knew he was out of line, carrying out a role that did not fit an elf in the situation in which he found himself. Later he would certainly feel shame when he remembered this comment, that on the eve of the final bout of an ancient tournament in which, incredibly, he managed to be a finalist, he had acted like a naughty _elfling_.

The problem was that he just could not help himself.

"Damn it... I cannot ... I... I do not want to face Glorfindel," he admitted finally, and his tone regained that legitimate sadness that worried his mother. Celebrian took a deep breath before answering.

"It's just a fight, honey. It will have no value other than for the Tournament. It's just a presentation in which _The Alcarinqua_ want to test their champion. Nobody expects to see him win the fight, they just want to analyze his behavior in an extreme situation."

Elrohir looked down again, then shook his head.

"I think I'm back to the beginning, aren't I?" he asked, rubbing his hands nervously over his legs. "I think no one really expects me to win... They will only go there to watch me lose..."

"Yes, of course. And to enjoy the opportunity to see an _Alcarinqua_ fighting," Celebrian added, trying to bring back the pleasant teasing tone she had used in the conversation when she arrived.

Elrohir twisted his lips with the teasing, but then dropped his shoulders with a sigh and let out a weak laugh.

"Thank goodness..." he said. "It is better to surprise than disappoint..."

This time it was Celebrian who sighed weakly.

"I think you have surprised enough to disappoint someone, dear," she said, seeing that there were no more reasons for jokes or warnings. "We're all proud, _Rohir-nín,_ and we will continue to feel so, regardless of the outcome of tomorrow."

The twin's lips rose in a faint smile, which was enough for his mother, at least for now. He paused to look out the window for a moment before returning his gaze to Celebrian once more.

"Do you think that everything will remain as it was, _nana_?"

"Everything what, _ion_?" Celebrian asked, confused.

"Everything... Do you think that if Glorfindel and I actually duel as opponents...? If we have to use our weapons and techniques as if we were enemies... We... then..."

"Oh, dear." Celebrian rose then, rushing to sit next to her youngest child and hold his hand. Only now she understood Elrohir's apprehension and understanding that made her heart ache again. "What nonsense is this?" she asked with a smile. "Glorfindel loves you, as do we all. Nothing can change that."

Elrohir swallowed hard at her answer, thinking that to believe it was almost as difficult as believing that his legs would not tremble at the camp the next morning.

"Are you really sorry, _Rohir-nín_?" his mother then asked.

"Sorry for what?"

"For being part of this? For winning? For having to be there tomorrow?"

"I do not know..." The twin sighed. "I guess I'll have that answer tomorrow after all this is finally finished."

Celebrian sighed too and exchanged another caring look with Elladan before she answered.

"Not everything is as it seems," she repeated then. "You'll see. It is exactly in these moments when we judge ourselves the owners of the truth and destiny, that the true Lord of them usually tricks us."

* * *

Despite the eve of joy and sunshine, the day of the final competition dawned disguised in a gray and cheerless veil. Elrohir kept his worried eyes skyward as he crossed the yard toward the field. He and his twin then exchanged a glance under the identical heavy hoods of the robes each wore to cover himself.

"The rain may prove to be a problem," Elladan said. "Do you think _ada_ would allow the weather to delay this dispute?"

"I don't know... I do not know anything." Elrohir looked at the sky again, before finally reaching the field. It was quite early and no other elves had arrived yet. The twins decided to be there with the sunrise to try to avoid a bit of the turmoil expected for the next several hours. Elrohir sat on one of the benches that were on the sides of the field, but did not remove his cover or hood, seeming unwilling to be recognized so early.

Elladan put his bag on a nearby table, opening it only to check for the umpteenth time if everything he could need was there. He also had chosen to remain under his gray hood, respecting his twin's need for anonymity.

"How's your leg?" he asked, giving his brother a quick look.

Elrohir shrugged and that was his only reply, his face still hidden in the huge hood. He was really nervous and his unwillingness to answer any question was more than clear proof of that.

And Elladan, as he always did, respected his brother's need of silence, and avoided directing any more questions or comments to him. Once he had everything in order, the elder twin found other things to occupy himself, more to stay busy than because they were strictly necessary, like walking through the field in search of something on the ground that could be harmful to the dispute, checking the direction of the wind, feeling the temperature; all just to pass the time. Then he slowly approached Elrohir again, finally sitting beside his silent brother, whose face remained expressionless, staring at nothing, his head bent slightly forward.

Elladan quietly sat there, but after a moment he leaned back a little, subtly touching his arm to his twin's. Elrohir closed his eyes with the contact and kept them closed, just feeling his brother's presence, being grateful for having Elladan there by his side, as he always was. He tilted his head then, resting it on Elladan's shoulder, who circled Elrohir with his arm at last, allowing his brother to stay there for as long as he needed.

Elrohir had not imagined that, once he was in the position he'd longed for since he had known about the Tournament, this would be the feeling in his heart. No. Nothing had turned out as he had wished; on the contrary, here in this moment, he was not even close to having the emotion that he thought he should have, when he'd dreamt of success before.

Elladan stroked his arm, muttering a song that the healer twin was particularly fond of singing. It talked about the sea, about crossing it to go home to find those who you love. Elrohir closed his eyes, letting himself be overcome by the pleasant tone of his brother's voice and the desires that the song reflected; but they were not his, they were only Elladan's. Yet the youngest twin enjoyed listening anyway.

And they remained there almost motionless, until the field was so full of people that not even Elladan could believe it. The elves were walking up with their songs and laughter, bringing baskets and harps. Many positioned themselves in out of the way corners and began to draw, before the event even started. Others sat in small groups and hummed and laughed, looking excited and full of joy.

No one seemed to have recognized the hooded figures as being the sons of Elrond, or if they had done so, sought to give them the time and opportunity to do what they best needed to do at that moment.

Elladan was grateful for that. The disposition of his people, or maybe the pure game of luck, or both, seemed to be favoring them.

The uproar only started when, through the crowd, they began to emerge: Blue mantles, moving slowly past the people present there. They were many, and this was the first time they were all together and costumed. In fact until today no one was sure of their names or titles, and the local people as well as the guests had their own ideas of who they might be, solely through their own speculation. Only at the time of the tournament would it be revealed who had been chosen to compose so valuable a group of warriors.

Yes, it would be the first time that they would be introduced to the people.

They were: _The Alcarinqua_...

Elrohir finally lifted his head and he and Elladan looked at each other, and it took a minute before they remembered to stand. Only then did some seem to realize who the figures were, hidden in their gray cloaks and hoods, who had been there from the early morning. However, despite the glances for the champion, the excitement and anticipation were so strong that any sound other than the soft footsteps of those mysterious elves, lining up and positioning themselves on the field, seemed to get no notice.

The large group of _The_ _Alcarinqua_ then took the center of the place and all bowed in greeting, which aroused the applause of everyone present. One of the newcomers finally stepped forward, closer to the audience. He then raised his hands and revealed himself, throwing back his hood and freeing curly but finely braided blond hair, plucking other sounds of applause and admiration from the audience.

"_Mae Govannen_! I am Glorfindel, the Arms Master of the Land of the Valley and one of the advisers of Imladris Regency," he said, introducing himself. He waited a few seconds for the sound of the applause and cheers to weaken.

When silence filled the place again, the blonde elf turned toward the twins, who, despite knowing the stages of the tournament, were not aware of what would happen in this final part. What the brothers had studied about the protocol and the rules of the Millennial Tournament ended there, and what would come, from the beginning of the closing ceremony on, was unknown even to them.

Elrohir looked at his master carefully, trying to understand why Glorfindel was the first to show himself. The blonde elf, who until now had hidden his body under a blue robe adorned in gold and silver, the symbol of the group to which he belonged, moved with grace and precision. His right arm swept back into a beautiful movement, and the cloak that covered him slid over his shoulder, revealing the silvery robe with intense red details that the warrior was wearing for the first time...

As well as the beautiful sword that Glorfindel never ceased to bear, even in days of peace...

"Many reasons bring me here today," he said with extreme formality, his light eyes traversing that landscape of faces, some well-known, others not so much, which he had before him. "But my first and most serious goal this morning is to present to you, with pride and satisfaction, my pupil, whose skill brought him here," he added, drawing his long sword from its sheath and raising it to the younger twin. "Receive, please, Elrohir, son of Elrond Peredhel. Champion of The Tournament of Imladris!"

Although he was aware that there would be formality at this occasion, Elrohir winced at the unbelievable sound of elation and joy that the audience was able to produce. He stalled, without really knowing what to do, nor wanting to actually make a move; all the hoopla that usually motivated other warrior champions just left him feeling uneasy. Those most ritualistic moments were what constrained him; he would fight three hundred and thirty-three duels to not have to attend any ceremonial rite.

However the light eyes of Glorfindel were on him. And the warrior offered him one of the highest honors; he had saluted him with his sword raised. He needed to move and play his role or he would disappoint Glorfindel, and he would rather have a hand amputated than to cause his mentor any more disappointment. Even so, Elladan still needed to give him a little nudge so that he was finally aware that his shame would begin sooner than he thought if he could not at least move his feet in his master's direction. He then threw back his hood and his pale face appeared for the first time that morning, bringing new ovations.

Glorfindel followed the firm steps of his pupil, looking pleased. A small smile crept onto his face, and as Elrohir looked at him, it made him feel as if the day was less dark. When he was finally close enough to his master, he watched as Glorfindel shook his head slightly, as if he were surprised to see his pupil's extreme uneasiness.

"Are you nervous, _elfling_?" He teased him in a tone that only the young elf could hear. In another situation, Elrohir would have cursed him for having the courage to call him that and provoke him in a situation such as this. However, the only answer that came to his mind was to shake his head, as if he indeed were a scared _elfling_.

Glorfindel laughed, putting his sword away, and Elrohir continued to stare at his weapon master for a while, unable to stop wondering if he would actually be his opponent. If he was, why wasn't he in armor yet? But there was no time or opportunity for any questioning. Glorfindel turned to the audience who awaited him and straightened to his considerable height, fixing his eyes on the people there.

_Elbereth_, _Glorfindel must have some strange power_, Elrohir thought, as the crowd silenced without the ancient elf saying a word or making any gesture. All he had to do was fix his attention on them, and before him there were just curious and attentive faces.

"This morning, despite belonging to the group which I accompany today, I got their permission to take the side of my pupil in this final contest, because I'm still his mentor," he said, and some murmurs of excitement began to emerge. The comment also gave Elrohir's heart an unexpected energy, even though he wasn't completely sure he had understood Glorfindel correctly. Surprised, he parted his lips, but then sighed deeply, intensely relieved with what that information inferred. Glorfindel and Elrohir exchanged a brief glance and an even more brief smile of satisfaction, before the Master spoke again. "I would like to introduce, please, another member of our valuable group."

There was a new expectant silence, but soon, from amongst the set of bluish robes, another figure had distanced himself from the others. Glorfindel moved to the right of Elrohir and waited.

The other elf took a few more steps, and when he was a few meters from the two warriors, he threw back his hood, making visible a face familiar to many, including Elrohir. It was an elf of dark-brown hair and green eyes, whose countenance seemed to reflect the same peace of the water that he protected.

"_Mára aurë_. My name is Eilafion. I am the First Captain of Mithlond and with great honor I present myself to be the judge of the dispute today," said the elf, and after doing so, he turned toward the younger twin. "I take this opportunity to finally declare my deepest admiration for your pupil, Lord Glorfindel, whose name and extraordinary feats were included in some songs of my land long ago, when your warrior was still a boy," he completed, and only when Glorfindel placed his hand on his chest in thanks, did Eilafion look directly at Elrohir. "Good luck, Lord Elrohir of Rivendell. I see your courage and competence did not forsake you in these intervening years. On the contrary, they grew and strengthened with your person. It will be a pleasure to watch this bout and be a mediator in it."

Elrohir brought his hand to his chest at the same moment, surprised and touched by the unexpected statement, and bowed in gratitude. Then he stared at the Captain of the Gulf of Lune. It was the first time he had seen him since the good elf helped him and his father to leave the ports without being seen. The twin saw Eilafion smile briefly at him then, just as he had done that day in the past, and reciprocated the gesture of friendliness, smiling too.

Everything seemed like a strange dream now, at least that was the feeling that Elrohir had, a feeling that could not be classified as good or bad. He was the winner of the tournament and was respected even by others undeniably superior to him in experience and knowledge. That was more than any young warrior in his apprentice days could dream of achieving.

He was the winner...

And Glorfindel was at his side...

Glorfindel stood beside him. But... if Glorfindel was at his side, who...

"It will not be you," he said to his master, when reality finally sprang to his eyes. When Glorfindel just shook his head in response, Elrohir's eyes moved toward all those blue hoods, feeling lost again. "Who then? Who?"

Before Glorfindel answered that question, if he could answer at all, Eilafion returned to the center of the field and turned to the audience. He took a deep breath and raised his right hand toward the newcomers. Just then one of them moved, walking away from the other blue robes to stand in the middle of the field.

"I ask you, ladies and gentlemen, to receive the opponent of today," Eilafion formally requested. "The representative of the group of _Alcarinqua_ will close the tournament dueling with the champion."

Elrohir winced, looking at that puzzle under the insurmountable blue fabric. His heart quickened now uncontrollably. When the figure raised his hands and threw back his hood, an act that Elrohir thought would at least bring him some peace, even if it was the peace of comprehension, he realized he would not have any more insights; it was as if someone had stolen his heart and he was left empty. His nightmares would be even worse.

"_Quel amrum_, I'm Elrond Peredhel, Lord of Imladris. And I'm here to represent the _Alcarinqua_ in this tournament."

Elrohir could not tell if his energy was stolen from him by the surprise revelation or the frightening sound of stupefaction that the public made before breaking into a warm and very enthusiastic applause. When realization finally hit him Glorfindel's hand firmly held one of his arms, bringing him back to himself.

"Keep strong, boy!" he heard his mentor say, but Elrohir's eyes were still fixed on the pair of gray orbs in that face that looked at him without any trace of emotion.

_Elbereth_, this could not be true.

His father... It was his father... It... Was that his father?

Elrond took a deep breath, looking at his son with a serene face, without any expression that could translate what that moment meant to him. The lord elf moved forward a few steps and placed his hand on his chest, bowing to Elrohir.

"Greetings, champion!" These were his words. "Today I will be your opponent."

Elrohir barely parted his lips, but he felt that the air that passed through them was too cold. His whole body was too cold and that inscrutable look he received from his father, which he did not remember ever having seen before, wasn't helping him to compose himself.

But he needed to compose himself. He had to. But, _Elbereth_, how? How? He didn't know himself anymore. Who was he? Why was he here? How had everything come to this? Why, in the name of _Mandos,_ was he in such a dark situation? He tried to search for an answer; he tried to understand what was in his father's expression. He wondered if it would really be something he could even dare to try to decipher.

_Ilúvatar_. He knew he was playing the worst role he had ever been dealt, yet he knew what he had to do. He knew all the steps, all the rules. He had prepared himself for it for so long; he had mentally visualized this day. He had imagined all the possible outcomes... Except this one… But now he simply could not move. It was as if he was paralyzed... Why? By _Elbereth_, why? Why was he feeling like an _elfling_ lost in an unknown forest? Why was he feeling like a prisoner to a face he should know so well?

Elrohir breathed deeply and tried to regain some of his integrity, resting a hand on his chest and remembering to return, although belatedly, the greeting received. Maybe if he executed step by step what he had planned, he would discover he was just in another of his many daydreams of victory, in one of those dreams he dared to have in his spare time, when he only imagined being here… Who knew? If he did that, might he awaken to a less daunting reality than the one before him?

Nevertheless, his ceremonial attitude was only able to awaken a slight feeling of satisfaction in his opponent. In the twin's eyes there seemed to be sketched on his father's face a shadow of a smile,as if he thought his son had finally understood and accepted the meaning of everything they were doing without feeling badly about it. But Elrohir had not understood or accepted anything. He couldn't believe that his father was his opponent, but he could never demonstrate it in a situation such as this…

However, he had no time for any further analysis or conclusion, because Glorfindel's hand began to pull him subtly to the place where he would prepare himself. There, Elladan's pale face waited for him.

"_Ilúvatar_, Dan." Elrohir held his brother's arm tightly as soon as Glorfindel made him sit. He was so pale that maybe his mentor thought he would faint. "Tell me it's a nightmare."

"It's a nightmare..." Elladan said, turning quickly to see his father being helped by other elves to prepare his armor. "But I think that the awakening will be painful."

"Stop speaking nonsense to your brother, Elladan!" Glorfindel scolded, but realizing that the twins were so impressed with this unexpected event, he grabbed the arms of the two with equal vigor. "The improbable opponent, _elflings!_" he said looking at them alternately. "The improbable opponent! Hadn't it ever occurred to you both who would it be?"

Elrohir looked back at his father again, whose armor was now being checked by Eilafion. He did not understand why, but that image aroused in him the feeling he was facing a ghost of one of his ancestors.

"I do not understand..." he said, his lips still trembling with nervousness.

"What do not you understand?" Glorfindel asked, checking the moorings of his pupil's armor.

"_Ada_... He never officially fought ... I have not even seen him at the training field since ... Since I was a child … the only image I have of him as... as a warrior is..." He could not continue because the scene which was stored in his memory was his father saving him from a terrible beast in a place he never should have put his feet.

Glorfindel laughed a nervous laugh.

"Whoever might hear you saying such nonsense will imagine you slept during every one of those exhausting classes of your boring mentor, with his many books that bear the name of your father."

Elrohir did not even realize his master's jest. He continued to look skeptically at the figure he never expected to see. His father in war garments, the same greenish armor which was the symbol of the great army that faced Sauron and his allies in the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. His father had fought, of course he had fought. He was a healer, but even the elves of cure never refused to use their swords when they were needed.

"But ... why did he accept it? Why, Glorfindel?" Elladan looked equally unhappy, sitting next to his brother, his face desolate. His incomprehension and disgust were moved, however, for a reason other than that of his twin. Just as Elrohir had, he had only seen his father with a sword in extreme situations in the past, in which the Lord of Rivendell had been forced to defend his family. However, in Rivendell's daily routine, Elrond had never been seen carrying any weapon, even in games with his children, like most adults did, occasionally taking one of the wooden swords just to play with the little ones. Elladan shook his head, feeling the basis for many of his convictions and beliefs being torn painfully from him. "He's a healer... he could not... could not be using such a weapon without any extreme urgency, without having to help someone, he..."

"Are you sure you're able to judge what your father should not do, _elfling_?" Glorfindel launched the older twin a hard look this time. "Do you think that only with a potion or balm in his hands your father is able to heal any wound or uproot any harm?"

Elladan pressed his lips together, but lowered his eyes; his face still bore the bitterness that misunderstanding the situation had produced and which he could not yet rid himself of.

Glorfindel realized this; he realized that in the heart of Elrond's firstborn, seeing his father there in garments of war could be more painful than facing him as an opponent was to the youngest brother, who was already struggling to accept what waited for him. Yes, Glorfindel understood why. He understood the intense hurt and disappointment that the unexpected sight had awakened in Elladan's fair soul.

"What would you do, Elladan, if I ordered you to pick up the sword of your brother and take his place in the fight today?"

"How so?" The older twin curved his eyebrows.

"Just answer my question, boy."

Elladan held his breath, then exchanged a puzzled look with his brother before answering.

"You are my mentor..."

"And?"

"I have to trust your judgment..."

"Even if it is against your beliefs, would you accept what you were given?"

Elladan did not answer this time, but his eyes moved in the direction of his father, whose absolute concentration was still on the preparation of his armor. As if sensing something, Elrond lifted his face to stare back with a seriousness that only came to confirm what Glorfindel was trying to say to the two brothers.

"_Elbereth._" Elladan paled then, feeling that truth better than he would like: they were not the only ones suffering by being in the situation forced by destiny. He turned for a moment to his twin, whose attention was caught by the same thing his brother's had been, and he had drawn the same conclusions. Elrohir paled as well, but for him that discovery was worse than knowing who his opponent was for the final. So his hunches the day before were not nonsense as he judged them to be.

No... They were not nonsense... He'd done it again ... He'd done it again...

"Elrohir?" He heard his master's voice calling him more than once and when he finally came back to himself, he felt Glorfindel's hands on his face, wiping away his tears. The figure of his mentor sitting beside him, looking at him with a worried frown, now awakened him at once. "What is it, _elfling_? The land will not be shaken by any storm; much less will it be taken up by the waters of _Ulmo_ if you and your father fight against each other."

Elrohir did not answer, his body just seemed to soften as he sat on the chair. He looked at his master, which only intensified Glorfindel's worry.

"Glorfindel..." he said, his voice coming out of his mouth with difficulty. "I do not feel well..."

"Stop this nonsense." The blond elf shook one of Elrohir's knees, then he held his pupil's face, knowing that using this austere tone would free him of any lethargy. "Elrohir, do not embarrass me."

Not even those words that would have moved the proud Elrohir in any other situation seemed to take effect, and Glorfindel cast a worried glance at Elladan, before making a brief signal to Eilafion, who was already waiting in the center of the field.

"I need a little more time, please, sir mediator," he said, formally, and the Captain of Haven directed a friendly look at the young warrior. Eilafion, in fact, understood what was happening here better than anyone could imagine. He had been in this same position many winters ago. He was also a tournament champion, and he too had been rewarded with one of the most improbable of opponents. Eilafion closed his eyes at the memory of the day he faced his friend Gil-Galad, and that image had been enough for him to want to do more for this young champion than just give him more time to prepare for the inevitable.

"Take as much time as you need, Lord Glorfindel," he said.

Glorfindel looked down, forcing the air out of his lungs. Elladan did the same, and still the twins looked at each other, trying to get rid of their own ghosts. The older twin then sat a bit closer to the youngest, putting his arm around his shoulders.

"Come on, Ro!" He took the role he needed to take in this situation. "You cannot leave our father waiting. You will put him into a difficult situation if you do."

Elrohir looked up and found his father watching him worriedly from the other side of the field.

"Come on, _elfling_!" Glorfindel shook his knee once more. "You're better than this. Go out there and make your father proud."

That phrase received the last reaction the mentor could have expected. Elrohir's body shook with suppressed and bitter laughter. He leaned back against the chair, looking up at the sky with an air that neither his mentor nor his brother understood. Glorfindel and Elladan consulted one another in search of an answer, but there seemed to be none.

"Proud..." Elrohir said finally. "Of course he is. For sure _ada_ should be very proud... as he was when he found out I had stolen a sword, forged it secretly, hurt my brother... When he discovered that he would be disgraced because of me..."

"Stop it, Elrohir!" Glorfindel warned, unhappy with the direction that he felt this outburst was taking the younger elf.

"No! Wait ..." The twin laughed more pointedly this time. "Maybe he's feeling as much pride in me as when he discovered that I had fled with the weapon I should have returned, or perhaps as when he realized he would have to cross the turbulent waters and step into forbidden territory, once again risking his good name, to save me... oh yes, for sure he must be feeling the same way, feeling exactly the same pride ..."

"Elrohir... Do not do this; do not do this, _toron-nîn_..." Elladan said this time, but the younger twin just shook his head, jerking his shoulders and causing the hands that were holding him to release him.

"You do not see, do you? That's why _ada_ asked me not to participate... He was not only concerned about my inexperience, he was worried about the next great achievement of his proud and presumptuous son. _Of course I can. Why doesn't anyone believe me? Why do I always have to prove what I'm capable of?" _He repeated the same questions he had used to convince his father and mentor to let him participate in the event. "_Ilúvatar…_ and then Lord Eilafion bestowed all those compliments upon me..."

"Elrohir, stop!" Glorfindel continued to try and intervene, but the twin let out another sarcastic laugh.

"The poor captain didn't know the stupid and arrogant soldier he was praising. I should go to the ports and plead that whatever punishment they reserved for Lord Enel be given to me in his place. I should be punished. I should be. When will it be me who is punished instead of others in my place?"

"Elrohir, stop!" This time Glorfindel grabbed him by the shoulders, giving him a quick jolt, and he hardened his gaze as he had few times before, in an attempt to awaken the boy from the strange trance of self-punishment in which he'd immersed himself. However, when Glorfindel saw the pain finally appearing in Elrohir's bright eyes and the tears slipping down his cheeks, his heart softened. "Stop... Stop, boy..." he said softly now. "Nothing that happened here is your fault... Your father is an _Alcarinqua_, a position he could have refused if he wished."

Elrohir gave a sad laugh this time, dissatisfied with the inconsistency of that justification.

"It is a great honor..." he recalled. "You cannot turn down such a request... You cannot just say '_no thanks_, _I'm not interested in it and._.."

"The same way being a champion of a tournament is," Glorfindel reminded him flatly this time. "But it, too, has its price. Who accepts the glories, accepts the responsibility," he completed, and then, realizing that Elrohir was finally listening to one of his observations, he again shook his pupil by the shoulders. "Now look at your father. Come on, look!" he ordered, and waited for Elrohir's eyes to hesitantly move in the direction requested, before he added: "Look at him and see if he is having a childish crisis of regret here on the battlefield. See if he is weaving speeches about himself, if he is getting lost in useless sentences ruled by the first person. Come on and see! You look and decide if you think your father will embarrass someone today."

Elrohir breathed deeply and at that moment wished that his eyes were not so powerful. He wished he could not see in all the details what Glorfindel tried to make him understand. He wished not to find there, instead of a mirror of his irresponsible and shameful attitude, his father's worried face, returning his gaze with reinforced attention.

_Elbereth_... His father in garments of war... He was so proud of him... How proud of him he was, regardless of the clothes he wore ... How he wished that pride was mutual.

"Do you think he hates me, Glorfindel?"

"As much as I think the sun is turquoise," the blond elf replied, and when Elrohir moved his sad eyes to his mentor, he found him looking at him with extreme patience.

"And you? Do you hate me for embarrassing you?"

Glorfindel pursed his lips, thinking how impossible it would be to ever feel for this boy anything stronger than the extreme admiration he felt for him today.

"Do you know the ritual each _Alcarinqua_ is required to pass before earning his mantle of stars?" he asked, and Elrohir frowned, puzzled, then shook his head. "He must speak of one of his most embarrassing moments as a warrior," Glorfindel revealed, and when he realized that the air of misunderstanding still drew on the pupil's face, added: "You'd be surprised with the number of warriors who rated this moment that you are living as the most embarrassing they had. You would be stunned even more with the really embarrassing stories I've heard from many about such moments," he completed, and laughed when the twin's lips drafted a smile and his skin gained a slight blush. "It is true, boy! And they were all great warriors, with numerous battles in their pasts."

The twin smiled and then he lowered his face, embarrassed, shaking his head.

"I would have a dozen of those moments to narrate... This would just be one of them..." he said in a sad, but resigned, tone. Then he looked up at his father again, who was still staring at him from across the field. Elrohir sighed then, placing his hand on his chest and muttering the words _excuse me_, without even knowing if the healer could understand him. In response, Elrond offered his patient smile, repeating the gesture, but after that, he moved the palm he'd placed over his heart in an outward motion, toward his son, in a gesture that the twin understood quite well. "I love you too, _ada_ ..." he said, repeating the message softly. "I love you too, _Adar-nin_."

* * *

I'd like to give thanks to all friends who left a comment in the last chapter: **sokkergurl, DreamingIn2Eternity, Gwedhiel0117 Silvan Shemesh,aronoiiel, world-classgeek,Lia Whyteleafe, Oleanne, Wtiger5, lackam, Krissy001,LalaithElerrina,Evereven Guest (I would like to know him or her),Glory Bee, Rangerfan58** and **HelloDenmark **. I am really sorry for taking so long to update and answer the reviews.

Thanks again to **Puxinette**, my greatest friend and patient beta.


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